


The Liar

by Taylande



Series: The Liar, the Healer, and the Warrior [1]
Category: World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Forced Incest, I CAN'T THINK OF ANY OTHER TAGS, I'm Bad At Tagging, If This Triggers Some Bad Memories I Am So Sorry, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Molestation, Murder, My Many Apologies, Oh hey look, Other, Suicide Attempt, This Might Not Be Something For Sensitive People to Read, Uncle/Niece Incest, Violence, great, more abuse, uh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 42,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylande/pseuds/Taylande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Children shouldn't be hurt. They also shouldn't be fighting others' battles.</p><p>But not everything can be how we want, now can it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Start of It All

I was born on the first day of Spring, on a cool night, nearly twelve thousand years ago. It wasn't a loud birth, nor a quiet one, but somewhere in the middle. But, of course, I belonged to an influential family in kaldorei society. It wasn't really a big deal, because my family had hidden the fact that I was born. Why they did that, I didn't know, nor did I care, because why should I? If it's going to be useless information in the long run, why bother with knowing? Anyways, back to the story.

"Lithmyr! Come here, just look at how tiny she is," my uncle whispered. He stared at me in awe, amber eyes wide as he studied just how tiny I was. I would laugh, for I wasn't a loud child in the slightest. I was in the company of my two uncles, my mother, and my father. Sadly, my mother's father could not make it, and her mother had passed away from an illness only a few weeks before. My father's parents could not make it because, well, they had been dead for nearly four hundred years. "Hurry up, and quit being slow. These tinier kaldorei are so. . . tiny!"

"Fanarol, brother, calm down. I know you've lost your mate, but it does not mean you fawn over our sister's firstborn! I am busy communing with the child's father," my other uncle snarled back. Lithmyr carried on a conversation with my An'da, but they were, not surprisingly, discussing how useful it would be to continue our family's line of military duty with the next male child born. Yet, I was not male, so they would give me off to some other noble in order to gain something from another family. 

Mother placed a hand on my doting uncle's shoulder, her way of telling people to back off, that she'd like some time alone. He reluctantly agreed, tapping uncle Lithmyr on the shoulder and pointing at Mother. All three men exited the room, closing the door behind them. Lithmyr and Father would move into a vacant room to continue their discussion, but my uncle would press his ear to the door and eavesdrop on what Mother had said to me.

"Child, I hope for you to do great things for our family. I think I shall name you Nymera. You look like one, my young daughter," she told me. She'd place me in a small crib beside her bed, offering me a look full of admiration and love. She looked at me with that same look for what felt like an eternity. Mother soon looked up, for a knock at the door had pulled her gaze from me, resting in my crib. I was quiet, even as she raised a finger to her lips. 

"Enter," she called. Uncle Fanar opened the door, bowing as he stepped in. A deceitful smirk crossed my mother's face for half a second as she gave him a nod of her head. He strode forward hesitantly, as if he were unsure on whether to approach or not. Mother growled beneath her breath, raising a hand and beckoning him forward. A flash of fear passed through his eyes, for my mother was known to be an aggressive woman. Fanar strode forward, hiding the fear which had flashed in his eyes. As he stopped beside the bed, Mother's arm sped forward and grasped his chin. 

"S-sister? Is something wrong?"

"You and I. We have some. . . unfinished business."

Uncle Fanar nodded, backing away a few feet. "I'll leave you and your daughter alone. I've a few things to take care of, anyways. Farewell, Sister!" After that, he speedwalked out of the room to wherever he needed to go, and I was left alone in the room with Mother. She cast a glare to the door, which Uncle Fanar had forgotten to close, and then turned her attention to me. A devious smirk crossed her face.

"My young, young daughter, my little angel, I've got plans for you. Soon, morning dawns. I would suggest you rest."


	2. Something Good

As I grew older, I started to crave excitement. I wanted adventures, riches, fame, all of what a wild little girl would aspire to get. At around the age of seven hundred, though, our family got a surprise. I was hoping for it to be something that many would think impossible and stupid, like a visit from Queen Azshara herself, or an audience with Lord Ravencrest, or even Stareye. But, instead, we were gifted with my mother preparing to bear a second child. Everyone, and I mean _everyone_ wanted this child to be male. Even my dear uncle Fanarol.

During my mother's pregnancy, everything was, as one would expect, normal. Or somewhere around that age. But, I remember that Anta'nar Fanarol acted. . . different, somehow. He seemed distant, far off. One day, though, stuck out more than others. It was only a couple of months before the child would be born, and everyone waited eagerly for it's arrival. This day, my grandfather arrived. He was grim, as always, his gruff voice loud, commanding. It was one of those voices that sounded like you should be afraid of them, and you should have. He was a big man, my grandfather. Always adorned in armors, a very, very large battleax on his back. 

"Nymera," my mother called. "Is your uncle here yet? And I don't mean Fanarol." She said his name with such hatred, such disgust. I resented Lithmyr. He was mean, always hissing and spitting and growling at me when he spoke. Every other day, she'd tell me she had business to conduct with him, and every other day, she would ask me if he were here. He lived not too far from here, as well. Which made it even worse.

 _No, Min'da,_ I always wanted to say when he knocked, _Uncle Fanar's here._ But sadly, he never was. I always wanted to spark a fight between him and her, so that he'd never come around again. I skipped over to the door, though, like an obedient little girl. I heard the knocks, and I knew Min'da could, too. She had hearing better than everyone in our family, and it was a constant reminder that I could never fool her. I reached out, opened the door, and--

Uncle Fanar squatted down in front of me, to be at my eye level. I was short compared to him, and behind him stood Lithmyr, a glare on his face as he looked at me. At his side stood my grandfather, Tir'nael. His face was indifferent, and I could feel his eyes on me. Looking between them all, I noted that Fanar looked most like Tir'nael of the three. Except, he had a large amount of black streaks in his hair, and amber eyes. Other than that, he would have looked identical to his father. Lithmyr and my mother did not look much like Tir'nael, but his deceased mate, my grandmother.

"Ishnu'alah, Nymia. Is your an'da home? Hopefully your min'da is, though," Uncle Fanar greeted, a toothy smile splayed across his face. It was a crooked smile, right corner always a bit higher than the left. A silly grin would cross my face when I would see him, and right now, it did. I nodded frantically, Lithmyr still casting his disapproving glance at me. Tir'nael, though, he still remained indifferent, and I could no longer feel his eyes on my body. Now, he looked straight ahead, and I caught sight of Lithmyr glaring more intensely, now, at Uncle Fanar. 

"Fanarol. We are here to see Selindil, not sit about and chat with my grandchild. I still find it a shame she was not born a male. She would have made a fine soldier." I knew this was Tir'nael, not because he said grandchild, but because of the gruffness of his voice. I pouted as he said this, bottom lip stuck out. Fanar just smiled and picked me up, placing me on his shoulders. At this, the wide and silly grin spread across my face. Once again, though, both Tir'nael and Lithmyr's eyes bore into my skin. 

"Anta'nar, Lithmyr, Grandfather, my min'da is in her bedroom. She's gotten really big. It's like the baby is nearly ready to pop out of her!" I exclaimed, receiving a chuckle of amusement from Uncle Fanar, a low growl from Lithmyr, and silence from Tir'nael. We neared my mother's room, and Uncle Fanar had to duck to avoid having me hit my head on the doorframe. I missed it by a few inches, and giggled as Fanar bounced me up in the air as if he were a wild night saber. On the few occasions he came over, this was a common pastime for the two of us. 

Mother glared at Fanar, pulling a sigh from him. He raised me up and off of his shoulders, placing me on the ground. I frowned, my mother always doing this same thing whenever I was having fun with him. Lithmyr pulled up some seats that were around mother's room, four in all around. Why he had a fourth, I had no clue. I was usually left out of these talks, told it was for the adults only. Now, it seemed, I was going to be staying in the room for whatever this meant. I secretly hoped it had nothing to do with me, but it more than likely did. Mother flashed a quick, soft smile at Tir'nael and Lithmyr, no smile given to me or Fanar as she cleared her throat.

"Father, brother," she started, "daughter. . . _Fanarol._ " I winced. She said his name in such a rude manner that I felt sorry for him. It seemed he was always treated like scum whenever he was addressed by mother and Lithmyr.

"Selindil! You will not refer to the heir of the Silverblade family in such a manner! We all know how amber eyes are treated within this family." Tir'nael spoke up. "Apologize to him, then state your business for calling us here."

"Father, if I may interject. She has a reason for this. You seem to favor Fanarol--" Lithmyr. As always, his name was spat as if it were some sort of curse. "-- _more_ than Selindil and me. This is why we so strongly dislike him.

"My eldest, there is a reason for that. He is the amber-eyed child. He is destined for greatness. I only became the patriarch because I was an only child. You should even be so lucky I let you stay. Your mother. . . She is who you should thank. If not for her, you wouldn't be here." Tir'nael.

"Apologies, Father." Lithmyr again. He sounded so pathetic when our grandfather spat at him. My eyes went wide, but I said nothing. I knew better than to say something, for there was always a beating whenever that happened. I've still the scars from it. Mother was such a cruel woman, and it was the same case with my grandfather and Lithmyr. Wherever they inherited this. . . innate darkness from, I was glad I did not receive this.

"And my own sin _cerest_ apologies, Fanarol." Mother. "But, onto the business at hand, I suppose. We all hope this child is a boy, to help continue on with our military legacy." I couldn't help but notice Lithmyr and Tir'nael relax, but Uncle Fanar stiffened. I recall him telling me how my own father would stiffen when they spoke of me while I was still in the womb. I was curious as to why, but Fanar, when I asked him, always told me it was something soon-to-be fathers would do. Now, it made me wonder why _he_ had stiffened up.

I zoned out, and I could faintly hear my mother talking in the background. Why _would_ my uncle do that? Perhaps he was the father, then, of this child. No! That wouldn't be right. They're siblings, and why would any brother and sister be the parents to a single child? This wasn't logical, but perhaps Fanar was just worried about this child. I told him about the beatings I would receive for Mother, after all. I still remember his hugs, though. They were so warm, so kind and full of love. Maybe he was just worried this child would receive the beatings I got, worn the scars I wore, but then perhaps my uncle was just an anxious man.

Something struck me across my face, and screaming entered into my ears. This wasn't good, and I blinked a couple of times to get my bearings. I had zoned out enough to forget where I was, whose company I was in. I got a fist in my face, since I wasn't quick enough. I was never quick enough, never the fastest runner, never the fastest learner, and now, I wasn't fast enough to dodge this incoming hit. I took it, and felt blood on my face. Then, more screaming.

"Why?! Why would you strike your own child?" I heard the voice of Uncle Fanar, the clattering of chairs. Through the tears in my eyes I could see my mother sitting on the edge of her bed, about to stand up and do something. I saw Tir'nael reach up and grab onto the handle of his battleax, ready to pull it and try to maintain order. Lithmyr stood to the side, as he wasn't able to participate in whatever was going to happen. He just glared at Fanar, I knew he was. He always did that, and he would never, ever stop. He hated Fanar much more than I ever thought possible.

"She needed it. The girl is a moron and in no way gifted! She is a blemish upon our family's name, Fanarol. You saw how she did not react to my command. Maybe you, as she is, are a blemish upon the family as well!" This was my mother, screaming at my uncle. I wished my father was here, oh, so much. He hardly ever was, always off doing Elune knows what, going Elune knows where, and possibly with people who none of us had ever even met. I came to the realization, now, that Uncle Fanar was more a father to me than my own father was. 

"If you ever try doing this to my child, _the one you carry,_ Selindil, I will personally come and slit your whore throat in your sleep! Here you are, saying I am the stain, Nymera is the stain, and hitting her. Never mind the fact that you're the one who raped me, that you're the one with the most IMPOSSIBLE standards!" Uncle Fanar was screaming, and I saw Lithmyr pull something from his belt. It was a dagger. I couldn't see it well enough, but I saw it glint in the moonlight that poured through the curtains, that I knew illuminated the streets of Ara'hinam. I wanted to leave here so bad, go to Suramar, were Uncle Fanar lived. 

I started crying silently to myself. Rape. That was the word. It stuck out in my mind, making me wonder just exactly what that was, what it meant. It sounded horrible, though. In my head, it sounded like one of those unspeakably filthy words that you should never say. The way Uncle Fanar had said it, it sounded like she did something to him. Whatever it was, I hoped it was never done to me, or to any one of my cousins and brothers and sisters and children, if it even was something one person did to another person. 

Uncle Fanar had to be glaring at my mother, and I heard the heavy footfalls of Lithmyr as he came up behind one of them. I saw the figure of my mother push herself to her feet, and through the tears I knew she had to be infuriated at Fanar. Tir'nael glanced rapidly between them, his battleax now drawn and held. He, apparently, heard Lithmyr advancing, and spun around. I heard the clanging of metal on metal, and then metal sliding over wood. It sounded to me like Tir'nael had disarmed Lithmyr, his jealous child, my rude uncle. Thank the Goddess, he did, too!

"ENOUGH. I will not tolerate this family infighting between us. We are a family. Nobody is a blemish, a stain, an unwanted spot. Alone, we are weak, but together, we are strong. Selindil, I will be ending this discussion here. I wish you had learned some respect, like Fanarol. As for you, my son, watch your tone. Even if she did do that to you, I will not allow the taboo to be spoken of in the prescence of a child. And Lithmyr. . . You are banished. You are not a Silverblade, not at all. Your belongings, all that have been given to you, shall be stripped from your ownership and divided amongst your brother and sister. Fare _well._ " 

My grandfather's words were encouraging at first, and then I found myself liking them more and less at the same time. Somehow, I knew he didn't mean it about people being stains and blemishes, yet I didn't know who he spoke of. He treated all of them equally, but not Lithmyr. Something was wrong with Lithmyr. But, this wouldn't stop him from coming around to visit Mother. They were always talking about something, and of what, I never did find out. I just hoped it didn't have anything to do with me or Uncle Fanar or anyone I actually cared for.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uncle Fanar helped me up, taking me to the washroom and wiping the blood off of my face. "Are you okay now, Nymia?" I was still crying silently from the pain, but nodded to answer him. I'd had skinned up knees and had my rear beat with a leather belt before, but getting a fist in my face was new. It hurt. But I don't understand why my own mother did it. "Nymia, I am so sorry. If I could take you home with me, I would. But, you are Selindil's child, but don't even look like her. You've always looked more like me, with that shaggy purple mane of yours!"

I knew he was trying to get me to smile, and he succeeded. A smile had crept onto my face, and the tears were nearly gone, as was the blood. I reached forward and gave him a hug. "I wish you were my an'da, Uncle Fanar. And I wish your mate had been my min'da. Mother's mean and Father's hardly ever around, but when he is, I never see him. You're my favorite!" He laughed at this, hugging me and picking me up. 

He began to spin me around in the air, which pulled out a series of giggles. Soon, though, he set me down. We both heard the muffled screaming of Tir'nael, and he was calling Uncle Fanar's name. "I wish that was true, Nymia. I need to go now. Grandfather is a very strict man, and I'm still trying to learn from him, even though I'm already stronger than he is." I laughed, and my naïve mind had no doubt about this. "Now, be a good girl and I should be able to see you soon, alright?"

I nodded at him. "Bye, Uncle Fanar." He stood up, and left the washroom. I did, too, but I had to go to Mother, ready to do what I was told, as always.


	3. The Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I know this hasn't been updated. Blame procrastination and fucking writers' block.

He always came around, even when he wasn't supposed to. Always, always, always. He never stopped, appearing after Grandfather would leave our home. Lithmyr donned a new surname too, since he was no longer a Silverblade. He called himself Shadowdancer, and said it was the start of a new family. A family better than the Silverblades, ones who would rise up and claim the throne for themselves. I knew he wouldn't be able to do this, and I knew he had to be working with someone else who wanted to be on the throne.

People were all power-hungry these days, and it was only a few days before the birth of my min'da's next child. Whatever happened to Lithmyr, though, something had to be in his mind, had to be eating away at what he once was. And what he once was was much better than what he is now. He's insane, insane and harboring fantasies he won't ever make real, and he'll be lying in the dirt dying a slow death as he realizes he'd never have made it happen. At least, that's what I think, anyways.

But, today was a special day. Or so I was told. Uncle Fanar showed up, Father showed up, Grandfather showed up, and that was really it. Who would dare show themselves for the birth of a bastard? This was uncle Fanar's child, and he'd even said that, called out Mother as a rapist. I ended up learning what that word meant, and I was utterly disgusted. When I read that, I realized just how cruel my own mother was. It truly was sickening.

"Father. Have you any names?" I heard my mother ask. She wasn't asking grandfather, but my own father instead. The man who was almost never here. He seemed more another man now, not my father, but simply another man who I know. Strange that he'd show up for the birth of a child that wasn't even his own. Very, very strange indeed.

I grinned a little bit to myself, because I sounded so much like an adult when I thought. I liked sounding that way. It seemed fun, interesting, even, when you had finally gained the authority and were able to be taken seriously after so long. I looked forward to the day I recieved my facial markings, because I'd finally be marked as an adult, able to make decisions and so on.

"Nymia. . ." I heard someone say. It had to be Uncle Fanar. It just had to be. He was the only one who called me that, whereas my own father would simply call me 'child,' like I wasn't even his daughter. The way he was most of the time made me suspicious about who he was, and if he even cared for his family at all.

Uncle Fanar beckoned to me, which meant I could leave the room to speak with him. He would only call me over for that, simply to talk.

"I was thinking, Nymia, that you could live with me. Soon as I find a way to get your min'da to let you move in. It'd have to only be you, not your new sibling, though."

My eyes widened, and I recoiled in shock. "What?!"I quietly gasped. "No, you have to take them with. They'll be treated worse than me, and they won't have deserved it. At all!"

"And you did? Besides, Nymia, it's a bastard. It will be disposed of in some way or another, even if your mother lets it live to adulthood."

"But. . . Anta'nar, that's not right. It just isn't. Thinking about it, even, makes me feel bad that I'd be giving min'da's pain to another just so I could be happy."

"I'm sorry, Nymia. It's just what our family does to illegitimate children. Cruel, I know, but you'll be expected to uphold that rule when you grow up, you know."

I shook my head defiantly, arms crossed in anger and plain shock at what he proposed. Yes, he was my uncle, my best friend, my father-type figure, but this was too far. For anyone, on that matter. Cruelty wasn't something you should tell someone to give to another for being different. That was like finding an orange haired, pale pink skinned creature with pupils and saying it got no rights simply for being, well, unique!

"No, Anta'nar. I won't live with you. It's either my new sibling comes with me, or we both deal with our min'da together. Jerk-iness isn't what I want to uphold when I get bigger."

Uncle Fanar looked rather disappointed when I answered him. He knew I wasn’t doing well here, mostly because min’da would strike me more often. He tried standing up to her, but of course, min’da had some sort of stupid cover story, like I was “climbing on a nearby tree,” or I “ran into a table and stunned myself.”

Cruel woman, min’da. I know I’ve probably thought this multiple times, but I couldn’t help but think so. She was… not the person to be stuck living with, especially at a young age. I really did wish I could take up his offer, but I know I’d feel guilty. Constantly. All of this still bugged me, and that’s when I heard muffled screaming. 

Muffled. Screaming. Of course, that made me nervous. I don’t think anyone could not be nervous whenever you start hearing someone’s screams get covered up. I had a good feeling it was min’da in there, the child being birthed. From what I’d heard, it was bloody when I was born, and min’da had nearly died. Thankfully, with the aid of a priestess, they told me, min’da made it through. I don’t understand why they let her live, though. 

“That, Nymia, would be your mother. I should probably go in and help. Hopefully this time, things won’t be as bloody.” I heard a note of despair in his voice, and it made me curious as to why he’d sound that way. Maybe he did care for her, but maybe it was just concern for the child. One could never be sure with him, the way he played his emotions. I’m more than sure his smiles are his masks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a while (and by “a while,” I mean quite a fucking while), Uncle Fanar came out with a newborn cradled in his arms. I had sat outside the door the entire time, listening to the screaming coming from my min’da. I admit, I grinned a lot whenever I heard this, because I thought she deserved this pain. Lots of it. For hours. But, I did doze off a few times, much to my delight. I dreamt, of course, but it was always the same dream. Ended the same, every single time, no matter what I did.

I do recall being somewhere near the sea, because the smell of salty water lingered in my nose whenever I would wake up. Or at least, what I thought salt water smelled like. My min’da was there, Uncle Fanar as well, and so was a strange woman. She was beautiful, with these amber eyes that we so wild and untamed that you would have thought Elune saw through her eyes. Her hair was purple, too, like Uncle Fanar’s. 

Min’da was always at the shore, watching it in a sort of disgust. She would act distant, distracted, like something was bothering her. A child--and female, no less--was always there, beside her, but I was in the background, watching them. Every single time. Uncle Fanar would be a distance away, watching them. And that woman? She was at his side. 

Min’da would end up turning to this girl and forcing her near the water, and the girl always protested and tried running away. Fear was present in her voice, and she ended up with a knife pointed at her back. It would shut her up, min’da forcing her to inch closer and closer. The girl, however, was like a wall. Still not convinced to move, firm in her belief about… something bad about the water, probably.

Soon enough, the woman or I would rush forward, the girl either forced into the water and stabbed, forced into the water, or simply stabbed. She’d crumple to the ground every time the blade entered her body, and at one point sobbing could be heard. Uncle Fanar standing over the bodies of Min’da and the girl, the woman was always comforting him. It always ended like that, and that’s when the reek of blood met my nose, mingling with the tang of salt. 

I always woke up after this, and I dozed off too many times to count. I just remember these parts, though. But, as I was saying, Uncle Fanar had the infant in his arms, and was gazing at him with somber eyes. I pushed myself to my feet, just barely past his waist. I was short for 740, but I was still growing. 

“Uncle, what’s it’s name?” I asked, the drowsiness clear in my voice.

“Delindor,” Was all he said.

Delindor. It meant “not my child,” in the old tongue, for a rough translation. Min’da had probably picked the name, since she was so keen on getting rid of the bastard child. From the way it sounded, the child was a boy. Too masculine sounding to be a girl, and now that they had the boy they wanted, Grandfather could steal him away and train him in a certain art. It was either this, or he would make Uncle Fanar teach the boy the ways of a scout. 

Banging noises reached my ears, and soon min’da was there. She had blood smeared everywhere on her, no doubt from birthing the boy. Her gaze was icy cold, and it went from Delin, to Uncle Fanar, then to me. Always last. I was their last choice for a type of soldier, their last choice for “continuing the line of Silverblades,” last choice for everything. Typical arrogant assholes. 

I hoped they all (aside from Delin (he seemed sweet) and Uncle Fanar) burned in a pit. 

“Nymera. Girl. Come here.” I hesitantly walked over at my mother’s call. Soon as I was within two feet of her, her arm darted out with a snakelike speed and gripped my wrist so tight, I felt as if the blood flow was cut off forever. She dragged me into her room, but not without having me bump into literally everything that had a sharp corner on it. 

Blood, of course, was… well, in a lot of places near the (obviously) bloody bed. My mother’s cunt being one of those lots of places. Her glare pierced my soul, or so it seemed, once again. She glanced about the room, as if scanning for something of value. Seeing nothing, she jabbed her finger in the direction of all the blood. I’m more than sure a brutal murder took place here. It looks like it.

“Clean,” she growled. “I’m to speak with your grandfather soon. He said he had something in mind when it comes to you.” I nodded, watching my mother stumble about and lean on walls for support as she went to see Grandfather. She’s either A: very, very strong to walk after having a child, B: an idiot, or C: had lots of painkillers during that so she can walk. I assume the child was born a long time before they had exited the room, and it might have been why. Or, I might have been asleep longer than I’d realized. So, for the next while, I cleaned.

I don’t know how long I’d been in there, but Uncle Fanar came in and stopped me. “Um, Nymia, I think you should come here. Your mom will handle the rest of this, since, y’know, she’s a jerk.” I nodded, stepping outside the room. Grandfather was there. Yay…

He simply cast a quick glance at me, then made a disgusted noise.

“Selindil, I have told you already. The child will remain with you until the age of one thousand. Enough time for her to know the boy. Soon as she reaches this age, she’ll be living with your brother, Fanarol. He’ll instruct her in the arts of a scout, so she may one day utilize this. For us. I have also told only you th--”

“Excuse me, Father,” Fanarol cut in, “but, may I go and fetch some supplies before I set out? As you know, I travel by foot only.” Grandfather grunted, giving him a quick nod. Uncle Fanar ran off, and I listened intently on what was about to be said.

“Now, you know I do not plan to let the Moonblade woman’s son simply… walk away with the throne, let life go on. No, I plan to do something with my eldest.” Grandfather’s words started getting darker and darker with every syllable that left his mouth. I tuned this out, instead of listening to him trying to do what sounded like overthrowing our Queen Azshara. But, why? Why would you overthrow the Light of Lights?

I have a feeling Grandfather was jealous, but perhaps a lot of people were, actually. I could see why, what with her being the queen and all. But, then again, maybe Grandfather thought to be some sort of personal advisor. It seemed unlikely, but I think it was a mixture of both of these things that drove Grandfather. I don’t know who he meant by the ‘Moonblade woman’s son,’ though. Probably a man who was no longer his friend.

Soon enough, I zoned back in. To my (rather terrible) luck, Min’da was staring at me. As was Grandfather. He made this sort of face that was in between deep thought and realization. He opened his mouth slightly, then turned to face my mother. “Though I should be going soon, beat this information out of her. We can’t have her knowing what we plan, now can we?” 

Grandfather smirked and strode out of the house, Selindil stumbling a bit to close the door after him. “You should be grateful the bastard was born a early enough to where I can walk. Otherwise, you’d be faced with lots of pain, girl.” A horrid, sadistic grin spread across her face.


	4. Run

A hundred or so years later, my brother was old enough to waddle around, form two or three (sometimes even four) words. Nothing much happened, aside from lots of beatings from both Mother and now even Father. Father had finally stopped going out for days and weeks at a time, electing to spend it with sitting and glaring at Mother and me. 

Nothing much happened in this hundred years, but there was always bound to be some sort of occurrence that would be memorable. By memorable, I mean it’s usually something that will scare the piss out of me. So, memorable? Yes. Ninety percent chance of being traumatic? Yes.

I was laying in my bed, which was nothing more than a thin, itchy blanket on an old mattress that was, quite literally, falling apart. Something crashed to the floor, followed by a shattering of glass on wood. Delin was probably crawling around, because Anta’nar Fanar said my parents would let me out and have me crawl about. Wait… Delin.

I sprang up from my bed and began crashing through the rooms to find where Delin was and what he had bumped into. I know my parents had a room with marble busts of some of the Kaldorei Empire’s most famous. Some of these busts included the Queen Herself, Chief Advisor Xavius, Lord Kur’talos Ravencrest, and the Captain of the Queen’s Guard, Varo’then. My parents are such suckers for these important figures. Then again, that’s common among noble families who are high enough up to be considered as “important.” 

The room was all the way on the other side of the house, my room being the last on the left side. My parents slept near the middle of the house, meaning quicker access to a certain room than the location of mine provided. But, I was fast. With luck, I’d be able to reach the trophy room sooner than my parents. If they were even up. 

I kept barreling through the rooms at top speed, being met with frequent dead ends due to the maze of a house we lived in. How I managed to even find these rooms on my own, I had not a single clue. I also don’t understand that, with the wealth my family seemed to have, they hired no servants. Then again, they probably wanted to keep evil schemes to themselves and make sure nobody listened in on what they were discussing.

Soon, I reached their “Bust Room,” or whatever they called it, and saw the other door that led to yet another hallway wide open. One of the said statues had been toppled over, along with the base it sat on. Rushing over, I saw the broken pieces of a face, but couldn’t really tell whose it was. I picked up a piece of a mostly intact face, and then snatched what looked to be another piece of the face.

Putting it together, I saw that it was Azshara. I sat, frozen, for what seemed like an eternity. Still, I hadn’t found my brother. I figured by now that they’d be up and wandering the house for whatever reason, but I know I needed to find Delin and do something about our Queen’s head being busted open. I dropped the pieces on the floor, the drop being not too far and not shattering the rest of the pieces.

“Delin?” I called, though I don’t know why. He wouldn’t respond, but he was probably making baby noises somewhere in the house. I began to jog through the house, waiting for him to make some sort of squeal or weird noise of his. Passing the kitchen, I heard none. I kept hearing nothing for the longest time, jogging throughout the house. Thankfully, my parents were asleep, but I don’t know how they were. 

It dawned on me as to why I realized everything seemed off. It was the middle of day. I shouldn’t have been up and wandering as if I were fully awake. Delin had no way of getting out of bed. It was impossible that he was the one who knocked down the statue of Queen Azshara. Last of all, a baby couldn’t really open the door by turning the knob. 

Someone had broken in. 

Uncle Fanar wouldn’t do that. Grandfather also wouldn’t be one to break into his daughter’s own house. Nor would anyone who was of the common rabble. I don’t think any one of Grandfather’s accomplices would do that either. It was too wild to assume they would have, but everything was very off in the house. 

Lithmyr. 

No. It couldn’t be. But he was the only logical choice at this point. Mother wouldn’t stage some sort of break-in, even if she did seem like one to do so. I spun on my heel and turned to run. I had a feeling he was somewhere near my room, because he loved to torment me. He would beat me, too, just like Mother. 

I began running faster and faster, because I was more worried about Delin than I was myself. I hit my legs on furniture as I bolted through the main seating room, where Mother often received guests that she would… spend nights with when Father was gone. She was sickening, but I had no time to focus on her. Delin, who was probably stuck in the same space as my screwed up uncle, who found girls like me to--

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind, slamming open the door to my bedroom. And like I had suspected, there he was. There was his sick person, sitting on my bed and cradling Delin like he was his own child. I hated him. This was the man who almost killed Fanar, who did-- He did things I shouldn’t say to me. He’s the reason I’m not allowed to be me, I’m sure of it. 

A sickening grin spread across his face. “Hello, little Nymia.” I almost threw up when he said that. He wasn’t allowed to say that, only Uncle Fanar was. If I had a dagger in my hand right now, I’d be trying to bury it into his neck. The thought of that made me smile, and he took it the wrong way, as always.

“Oh, happy to see me aren’t you? M-hmmm…” he chuckled to himself and sat Delin onto the bed. Then, he began to advance on me, and I had nowhere to run. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Countless hours of screaming, and not once did my parents come in. I doubt they even heard it, but now I was hugging myself in torn clothes as I waited for something. I didn’t want to sleep, for I feared he’d come back. Though, finally, dusk came, and I was exhausted. Sleep took me and I could do nothing, just as I could do nothing about my uncle. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stood in a clearing, right outside of Zin’Azshari. There was a woman, too. Her eyes were so bright that it was hard to look at her face. For whatever reason, she reminded me of the Goddess, serene and bringing with her a sense of peace. Inside the walls of the city, I could faintly hear the chaos, but outside it was so much more calm. 

“Nymera, child, you need to find Fanarol. He’ll keep you safe, I promise. Take your brother with you, too. Your fath--uncle will take him in, because he knows better than abandoning you two. Please, run, for your sake and mine,” the woman told me. Even her voice was nice, calming, like nothing bad could ever change it. 

It was either me going insane, or my conscious talking to me. But, for whatever reason, she seemed… familiar. But I kept watching her, somewhat confused but still I listened to her and watched her move and pace around.

“Who are you? I don’t think I’ve met you before,” I said.

“Call me Tary. You’ll figure out on your own just exactly who I am.”

“Did you know Uncle Fanar?” 

“Yes, I did. He’s a good… friend.” 

“Friend? You were friends? I’ll try to get to him, then.”

The woman called Tary smiled, a soft and sweet smile. Everything began to fade, and I assumed the dream was changing or I was waking up. But I didn’t want it to end. I liked this place, and I’d rather stay here forever w--

“NYMERA! GET OUT HERE. NOW.” I was awake. Mother was screaming at me. Great… She must have seen the broken bust of our Queen. As always, it was my fault. Opening my eyes, though reluctantly, I saw everything in here was fine. Like Lithmyr was never here at all, like he’d never broken in and… did things. 

I’m not proud to admit I’m one of those things. I shuddered and pushed myself to my feet, dragging myself to the scene of the crime. Mother’s glare was on me when I entered the room, and I felt myself beginning to tremble under her gaze. Why did I have to be here? Why did it have to be me who was constantly beat by her?

“M-min’da… I-I-I--I didn… I ran into it. I didn’t mean to, I promise!” I tried to explain. She wouldn’t have it, and her hand closed around my wrist. She yanked me closer, grip squeezing my wrist so hard I felt like it would fall off if she kept it up. Suprisingly, she didn’t make me clean it up, but just dragged me after her.

Two things done to me in a day. All enough to make me remember it when I woke up.


	5. City

I couldn’t run for a while. I was too busy shaking--no, trembling--because of what had been done to me. It took me quite a while before I felt I was able to escape. Mostly because Uncle Fanar didn’t show up for the rest of the half of the century due to Mother. All the while, I waited, hoping he’d appear one day at the door. I couldn’t be here longer. Lithmyr would probably find me again Why he didn’t show his face, I hadn’t a clue. 

But one day, Uncle Fanar did show up. It was my birthday, and he had shown up. He was the only one who would come over and give me a nice birthday. Who could rely on Mother for that, anyways? However, this was a different type of day. A good day, but also not, for many, many reasons. 

“Nymia, where are you? I just got here, and already I can’t find you. Usually I can’t find you near the middle of the night.” Uncle Fanar’s boots were barely audible as he moved around the house to look for me. I was actually smiling because he was here, and I might have been able to escape. “Nymia? … Nymia!” 

I was busy, of course. But Uncle Fanar was here, and it distracted me from having to carefully fold up Mother’s clothing for whenever she went somewhere. As always, she would come home with dirtied up clothing like she’d trapsed about in the mud just to force me to clean. I feel like she did it not only on purpose, but because she felt that she could. After all, I was only her little slave.

I pushed myself to my feet and walked out into the common room to meet with him. Thankfully, Mother and Father weren’t here. I was worried they’d come out, and because of that I had a terrified expression on my face. Uncle Fanar saw and led me outside the house, mostly so we could have as much a private conversation as one could have outside a somewhat extravagant looking house at the very edge of the city as possible. 

“What’s wrong, Nymera? I’m always here for you to talk to.” He wasn’t, not always, but he got his point across. He was my uncle, but he’d become the father figure in my life and my sole confidant when it came to my problems with Mother and Father. I feel like he knew a little bit of what was going on, because I didn’t always have to say it. His eyes always dimmed somehow when I brought something like this up.

“A while ago, fifty years or so… Mother… s-she beat me. One of her busts had fallen over in the middle of day and Delin somehow got out of his crib. I went to look a-and… and the one of Azshara had f-fallen,” I went on, slowly beginning to tear up through it all. I was almost to the point of crying, because I’d be telling him about with Lithmyr had done to me. I didn’t want to, since it was awful to think of and so full of pain.

“I found Delin b-b-but then… then…” I trailed off into tears, and soon felt Uncle Fanar pulling me into a hug. It was comforting, and he didn’t force me to explain it like others would. He let me cry, and it was good, because I needed to cry, and Mother would not let me since she thought it was a weakness of sorts. Thank the Goddess I actually had someone who was concerned for me in my life. Even if he wasn’t always around.

“It was Lithmyr, wasn’t it? Still coming around? Broke in this time?” he quietly asked. I nodded, shaking all over from having to remember it. I needed to get out of here. I couldn’t tolerate living here anymore, with Lithmyr always able to find me in the blink of an eye. I’d bring it up to him as soon as the tears cleared from my eyes. 

The tears were gone soon enough, since Uncle Fanar was the most understanding person I knew. But then, I heard growling, then someone clearing their throat a couple of feet away. I felt him move his head, due to the leathers he always wore shifting when he twisted his head to see just who had intruded on us. 

“Nymia, I took a saber to get here quicker. Go into the trees, because she’s a couple of feet away from the treeline. North,” he whispered to me. “I’ll get your brother.” I nodded once and turned to run off. I would have done as he’d asked, but part of me was tired of doing what I was told and having no power to do it or not. 

So, I ran. But then I turned and took a large turn around the other side of the house. I stopped near what was the middle of the house, since I started hearing shouting of two people, both men. One was Uncle Fanar, and I couldn’t make out who the other was. I began at a light jog on the way back, though I burst into a sprint and stopped at the corner of the house.

Nobody was near here, so I edged forward cautiously. The voices were louder, and I heard the second voice to be Grandfather. Oh, this’ll be good! I mentally screamed, creeping to where I could hide but still see what was going on. I felt like they were going to fight, and the thought of that was present in my mind. 

“You look like you’re trying to go in and take their boy, my son,” Grandfather hissed, drawing the large axe that was holstered on his back.

Uncle Fanar gritted his teeth, and glared daggers back at Grandfather. Unlike Grandfather, he didn’t pull out any weapons. He just stood there, silent, and he looked like he was putting himself at Grandfather’s mercy. “Funny how you’re one to say it, even though you were going to kill my boy when he turned a thousand. Let’s not forget that you always act like I’m your golden child in public, spit on your other kids, but as soon as we’re inside, you go and spit on me and reward Selli and Lithmyr. My little sister was fine and innocent, but then you put that poison into her mind and turned her into a demon.” He sounded so heartbroken.

“Shut up. You sound like an idiot. Draw out those little butter knives you call your weapons and fight me. Like a man.” Grandfather was cruel, evil, I saw now. He probably did what my mother does to me now, but to Uncle Fanar. But to think he was the one who shaped my mother into this was something I’d have never guessed. I thought they all just carried some sort of disease of evil in them that got passed down from generation to generation. I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, though. 

“No. I’d rather be diplomatic about this. Besides, why all the drama? I thought the dramatic flares were always saved for Lith. You know him? Your favorite child that you went and disowned? No wonder I wanted to go live with Tary when I was old enough.” Tary. She was right, the dream woman, that they did know each other when they were younger.

Uncle Fanar frowned, shaking his head sadly. He sighed, pulling out his two daggers. The one in his right the peoples called ‘Silverblade,’ where the family name came from. It was such a bright, shining blue, like a star that had crashed from the heavens and a blade became forged from it. I know that Fanar used that when he was in the military. The other dagger was almost able to be called a shortsword, due to how long it was. This one contrasted Silverblade, red and fiery-looking. I think he did this on purpose, to contrast. I know that the blue with Silverblade is supposed to represent calm, because Uncle Fanar had told me that when I was little. 

Grandfather rushed Uncle Fanar, catching him off-guard. I felt my heart leap to my throat and my stomach tighten up. Grandfather was powerful, built like a wall. Just like Lithmyr, but taller. Much taller. Uncle Fanar was smaller than Grandfather when it came to how wide they were, but Uncle Fanar stood a couple inches taller. As Grandfather quickly closed the distance between them, he knocked Fanar to the ground. 

Fanar clutched at his stomach, curled into a ball. If I could do something, I would. But I was forced to watch as he made his own son stand up and fight. Grandfather, boasting about honor, but violently jerking his already-downed enemy up to keep on fighting. While Grandfather held Uncle Fanar up, though, he drove Silverblade into Grandfather’s ribcage. It earned him a swift metal-gauntleted punch in the face, which I figured either broke his nose or knocked loose a few teeth. 

Grandfather limped away, clutching his side tightly. I stayed hidden for a few moments, making sure he was gone so I could go help Uncle Fanar. Soon as I thought the time was right, I ran into the open and got onto my knees beside him, shaking him with as much strength I could. Which, by the way, wasn’t a whole lot since I was a stubby stick compared to everyone else in my family. 

“Urgh… my nose is broken, but I could have sworn I saw a bright light and a very, very beautiful woman. Don’t worry though, Nymia. Just get your brother and meet me by the cat, okay?” Uncle Fanar responded to the shaking calmly, but groaned when he sat up. I nodded once and ran inside the house, looking around.

I silently padded through the house, searching all the rooms for Delin. I had to find him, otherwise Mother and Father would end up being cruel to him since I’d be safe with my Uncle and hidden from them. That, I knew, wasn’t fair. I was at my parent’s door, though, and opened it as quietly as possible.

Father sat there, and he held Delin in his arms. Along with a blade, held right over his neck. My eyes widened, and I felt my legs move like I’d had no power over them at all. All I knew was that I had to get Delin, otherwise he’d be gone forever. He was my little brother, too. “Don’t you even try to move,” Father told me. 

Nothing was nearby, so I ran forward and tackled him. Or tried to, anyways. He easily shoved me away, the small blade he was holding having caught on my shoulder, earning me a bloody slice on my left shoulder. Ow. He set Delin down, though. 

I only hoped that I’d find some sort of a blade, though, to try and stop him. But I didn’t. He simply shoved me back as I tried running at him again, and then put all his weight into one foot as he stepped onto my chest. Well, I was out of the fight. Permanently, too. Probably. I hoped Uncle Fanar would notice I’d not arrived yet.

I felt him bend down, causing him to put more weight onto my chest. I could barely breathe. I felt like I was suffocating, and my arms felt numb. Everything did, to be honest. He aimed the tiny blade at my neck, the point of it digging into my skin far enough to pull out a tiny little trickle of blood. Ow. Again. 

My eyes searched his body wildly for any sign of another weapon. I’d seen my father many times before, and knowing him, he’d probably had it tucked into his boot. My hand darted up like a snake, and I soon shoved it into his boot and felt my fingers brush something. I grabbed it, pulling my hand out and found a dagger. I knew it. My father’s an idiot. He can’t even tell when I’m studying him. 

The dagger was, thankfully, unsheathed and I wasted no time jamming it into his arm, just like he almost did to me. He deserved it, for almost killing Delin. I’d sent him staggering backwards, possibly straight into a bookcase or trophycase for some sort of creepy collection of mini-Queen Azsharas that people oftentimes kept in their homes. Or sometimes in every single room of their house, if they had that kind of money. 

Pushing myself to my feet, I saw that I wouldn’t have enough time to grab Delin and run, otherwise my father would kill the both of us at the same time. It was either that, or walk out of here with my life. I know that I’d rather die than let my father have my little brother, but I know I needed to make sure he was alive, too. Delin had to live, he had to. 

“An’da! You know you can’t kill him. Grandfather won’t be happy whenever he finds out that you stole his kill. I can tell him, too, if I tell Min’da.” My heart was racing. I don’t know if he’d buy it at all. I hope he did, so I could possibly get out with both of us alive. But then again, I might not. I know it was risky, and something I probably shouldn’t be doing. I was 873 now, and I felt like I was able to. This had to work though. This had to work. It just had to. Delin had to live.

“Your mother’s incapacitated. Or, for your tiny mind, knocked out. Your grandfather won’t kn--”

“GRANDFATHER IS RIGHT OUTSIDE, AND HE CAN TELL IF YOU’LL BE LYING!” I screamed. “I don’t want anyone else to get into trouble like I do.”

Father immediately went quiet. After a couple of moments, though, he whispered angrily to me, “He’ll live, fine. But you come back here in the next four hundred years, and you kill him. This way, we both get into trouble and die. But before you go, though, just know that I’m not your real father. I never was.”

I shot him one last glare and ran out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I reached the woods edge of the woods in ten minutes, and shot a few glances this way and that. I went north, like Uncle Fanar had told me to do. I stopped a couple of feet from the treeline, too. First, I saw no cat, and waited for something to jump out at me. 

A low yawning noise made me look to my left. Letting my eyes adjust for a few seconds, since daylight was almost here, I saw a cat, pelt silvery-grey, almost like the stars, but too dark to actually blend in with one of them. Uncle Fanar had probably stolen one of Grandfather’s specially bred riding cats. If Grandfather had ever bought one. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did, though. I would be surprised, though, if this was Uncle Fanar’s own cat.

“Is she yours?” I asked.

“Mhm. That she is. She’s old, though. Wasn’t too long ago that your grandfather had bought her for me. Specially bred, but tough like your uncle. This one, I mean. Not my brother.” Fanar grinned, motioning for me to move forward. I did, but I moved forwards slowly, what seemed like an inch at a time. Uncle Fanar gave me another hand motion, probably meaning that she wouldn’t bite. I admit I was afraid, since these cats are able to slice open a full-grown elf if you weren’t watching it carefully. 

“What’s her name?” 

“Seranna.” 

Seranna. A beautiful name, and it was for a beautiful cat. “Does she have any cubs, Uncle Fanar?” I asked quietly, edging forward a little more and holding my hand out to the great cat. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Uncle Fanar nod once, and I thought he grinned a little bit when the cat moved forward a step so my hand was on her nose. I was startled at first, but the cat began butting her head against my hand.

“Three little cubs, Nymia. And I think she wants you to pet her. She’ll turn into a giant fuzzball at times, don’t worry,” Uncle Fanar chuckled. I nodded, and began to slowly rub her nose. I giggled a little bit since the vicious-looking cat had turned into a giant kitten on me. 

“Uncle Fanar, I couldn’t get Delin because my father was in the way. He also said that he’s not my actual father, too. I’m sorry,” I said. He grunted once, waving his hand at me twice.

“Come on, though. I’ll come back and get him as soon as I’m able to. Besides, it’s almost daylight, and we’ve got a long ways to travel before we reach Suramar. The trip isn’t too bad, though. Maybe just a couple of days, depending on what way you come from and what route you take. But don’t worry about it.” He helped me onto the great cat as he spoke, and already I felt my eyelids getting heavier. “Go to sleep, though. I’ll not wake you up.” 

On the outside, I was tired and sleepy and with two marks where the knife had almost killed me and injured me. I’d forgotten about them until now, but they only stung a little bit. However, on the inside, I was grinning ear to ear because I was finally able to get away from the cruel people who called themselves my family. I was still afraid for Delin, though.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don’t know how long it was, but when I woke up I saw the spires of a large city in the distance resting on the horizon. I sat on the cat, dumbstruck, staring at the city as we moved closer and closer to it.

“What, surprised?” I heard Uncle Fanar laugh. I turned around as best as I could to look at him, and I saw a wide grin spread across his face. “This is Suramar, Nymia. Well, in the distance. We should be nearing the city outskirts in a few short minutes.”

“Woah. It’s big.” That was about all I could say, staring at the huge city. I couldn’t believe this was where I’d be living for the rest of my life. I’d already decided this was where I would live, because this looked like a good place to be.


	6. Temples and Ideas

It’d been almost a week since I’d moved to Suramar with Uncle Fanar, and everything was going along normally. We’d already gotten ourselves situated within his home, which was a simple four-room building in the midst of the city. It wasn’t too far from the Temple of Elune, but it also wasn’t too close, so it made it easier for me to find home when Uncle Fanar and I would go do something. 

Everything was going well, but I woke up in the middle of the day to crashing noises in the main room. Muffled coughs and some choking noises were what I heard, prompting me to get out of bed and go see just what it was. Silently, I tiptoed through the short and narrow hall, sticking my head a couple inches through the doorway. 

Sunlight streamed in through the three windows in the room, making it brighter than anyone I knew had preferred. It was probably midday, meaning dusk was far off. As I scanned my eyes through the beams of sun, I saw in the center Lithmyr on top of Uncle Fanar. My immediate reaction was to pull my head back a little bit to avoid being seen by both of him. 

Uncle Fanar was making odd choking noises, and I couldn’t do anything. I heard Lithmyr’s heavy breaths, which meant they had been fighting it out earlier. Lithmyr suddenly spat at Uncle Fanar, “Tell me, brother, where is the girl? You’re the only damned one who could have taken her away from her mother!” 

Lithmyr loosened his grip and stood, but he jerked Uncle Fanar up with him. Now, I saw just how much taller Uncle Fanar was than his brother. Lithmyr looked like one of those short subterranean creatures I’d heard people talk about; the dwarves, I think they were called. Uncle Fanar was a giant, and Lithmyr a dwarf. He certainly could have been one, too, because of how ugly he looked.

“She’s… she’s not here,” Uncle Fanar gasped. Out of nowhere, he raised his fist and brought it down onto Lithmyr’s mouth. He released his grip on Uncle Fanar, mumbling something along the lines of ‘worthless shit,’ and raised his balled fists and threw a punch at my uncle. Thankfully, he jerked out of the way soon enough and managed to get a knee into Lithmyr’s ribs. 

He fell down, but got right back up and began swinging wildly at Uncle Fanar. But, my uncle managed to dodge a couple of them before Lithmyr’s fists slammed into his body. I saw Uncle Fanar wince and heard him grunt from the pain, since Lithmyr was very, very strong. Of all people, I would know that. 

Uncle Fanar began throwing lots of fists and knees at Lithmyr, who simply took all the blows. Because of that, he kept going, and Lithmyr kept getting beaten up, but he wouldn’t give up at all. Beads of sweat began to form on Fanar’s forehead, and I could tell he was getting tired from the amount of force he was using to try and take down his brother. Before he could finish, though, he paused for the briefest moment to catch a breath so he would have a little more energy to finish of Lithmyr. 

He took that opening, slamming his fist straight into Fanar’s nose. His eyes teared up from the impact, and black streaks began to bloom like flowers under his eyes, his nose beginning to bleed as well. Out of instinct, Fanar’s hands were up covering his face as he fell onto the floor, which deemed Lithmyr as the winner of their little skirmish. 

Lithmyr, though, thought otherwise, and began to slam his boot into his own brother’s side multiple times. I heard something crack, and Fanar screeched like a newborn just a few days after it was born. His breathing got louder, and Lithmyr just grinned at the sight of this, planting a foot on his chest and chuckling quietly as Fanar’s breathing became even heavier. He was crying, too. I could hear the horrible sobbing he was doing, and it probably wasn’t good for his condition. Anger rose inside of me.

“Where’s she at? We can still do something with her, you know, if you tell me where she is. Besides, she’ll make a great piece in this little game you’re trying to play with us,” Lithmyr mocked. My blood felt like it was boiling. I wanted to hurt him, but I couldn’t because I know he’d easily overpower me. 

“WHERE IS SHE?! I can easily steal your identity and face and ruin your goddess-damned ‘Mister Perfect’ reputation! You tell me, you keep that,” Lithmyr continued.

“What good’s a reputation?” Uncle Fanar mumbled. “And if you do steal my face, at least you’ll look a hell of a lot handsomer.” He let out a faint laugh before Lithmyr bent down and slammed his fist into his face. 

I gasped, thinking it was quiet enough to not be heard. I was wrong. His head whipped around to look at where my head poked out from behind the wall, and my feet were carrying me to my bedroom as fast as possible. Thankfully, my footsteps were as light as a saber’s, but I suspected he would follow, and dove under my bed. 

This was usually the guest room, Uncle Fanar had told me, but since I’d be here this was now my room. I heard his heavy footfalls making their way towards where I was, and my breathing was now just barely audible. He moved around the room, small as it was, multiple times and looking everywhere except for where I was. I wanted to scream, to cry, to help Uncle Fanar, but Lithmyr had managed to pin down both of us. 

After what seemed like an eternity, he left, and I waited a couple of minutes to make sure he was gone. I scrambled out from under the bed and rushed out to where Uncle Fanar was. He had already curled up into a ball, and was groaning in pain. I gave him a gentle shake, but he didn’t respond. I gave him another one and he responded with a single grunt.

“Get… Get me a rag, please. And something t-to lean on. S-should be a walking stick in the cleaning room,” he rasped.

“I thought you were strong, Anta’nar. I thought you could beat him,” I said. He laughed, though weakly, tears falling out of his eyes from the beating.

“Not like my big brother, Nymia. His strength is in his body more than it is in his mind, you see. P-people have different strengths,” he responded, stumbling over his words a little.

“Oh… I think I want to be strong in my head now.”

He laughed again, raising his right hand--the one not cradling his ribs--and wiped away the tears leaking out of his eyes. “Try being s-strong in both wa-ways. It’ll be good. Now get me wh-what I need before I get w-worse.” 

I nodded once and shot off to where he told me to go. There was a fresh rag already out, and the walking stick he was talking about wasn’t there. I quickly snatched up the rag, though, and began to maneuver about the house to try and find just where the walking stick had ended up. I went into my room after that, giving the small area a brief scan-over.

Nothing. To the next room, Uncle Fanar’s bedroom. I didn’t want to go in unless he’d let me in, but it was either I found the stick and risked getting into possible trouble with him or I let him not get some medical help. I thought to myself that I’d rather take my chances, and peeked into his room. It was neat, neater than min’da’s room at her house. I took a few hesitant steps in, and saw the walking stick laying up by his intable. 

I skipped over on light feet and snatched the stick from where it was, catching a glance of a few small daggers underneath his bed. Probably for defense or practicing, I told myself as I made my way back to where he was laying on the ground. 

When I got to where he was, I knelt down by him and gave him the rag, which he took and used to wipe all of the blood from his face and hands. “Thank you, Nymia,” he groaned as he forced himself to stand up. I handed him the walking stick since he’d almost fallen down when he stood, and he took it so he would be able to move around easier. “I’m glad that you went and hid. That was very smart of you to do. Now, come along. I’ve got to get my side bandaged up since there’s a nasty gash there from a knife Lithmyr used before you saw that. And he broke some ribs, so I’m probably going to have a priestess look at them.” 

He looked down at me, furrowing his brows. “You didn’t see the whole fight, right? I’ll explain it later if you didn’t.”

I shook my head once. “No, I just saw him hit you and when I did I had to run, because then Lithmyr’d have seen me and taken me back to min’da. But I miss Delin, and I’m worried for him, so it wouldn’t have been too bad.”

Uncle Fanar grunted, nodding a few times at me. “Alrighty then. I think he broke my nose some more, too.” 

My second lie. The first was to min’da, about the bust of Azshara being knocked over. Why I lied to her then, I don’t know.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour or so later, we arrived at the Temple in Suramar. Daylight was still up, so few of the priestesses moved about, but Uncle Fanar requested a specific priestess to come and see him. Her name is Arathris. She was older than me by about two thousand years, but Uncle Fanar said he was still older than her by a thousand. He told me that he’s known her for quite some time, when he used to be in the military. 

“Ishnu’alah, Arathris, my old friend!” he laughed when the priestess came to greet us. We were in the main, more public area of the Temple, what the peoples called the Chamber of the Moon. It was large, shaped like a rectangle, and had no roof. It was probably so that when the moon was out, it would be able to shine into the room, to allow the Goddess to look down on those who came to visit her in the closest way they could. But now, sunlight seeped through the roof, and it made me drowsy. 

“Ishnu dal’dieb, Elun’dorei. I assume you’re here for that broken nose?” she asked, smiling. Dark violet hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, complimenting her girly-looking face. She’s very pretty, I thought to myself, silvery robes and intricate designs marking her as one of the students at the Temple. 

Fanar shook his head, a low rumbling laugh coming from the depths of his stomach. I knew doing this hurt him, because he groaned very quietly afterwards. “I’m afraid the nose will be alright. It’s just my left side that you should be more concerned about. Let’s just say that more family arguments happened, hm?” I watched as he flashed her a playful grin, and then he used the walking stick to help him to his feet. He lifted up his tunic to reveal the bandages, which were now stained with purple, which usually meant blood.

“Mmh, I see. You know I won’t be able to help you much until the moon rises, right? I can escort you and the girl back to your home and wait with you ‘til night, though.”

“That would be an alright-ish idea. Assuming, of course, my brother doesn’t show up to continue the argument and the Sisterhood is okay with you being gone for a whole day?” 

“I think it will be fine. After all, you’re the one who would oftentime drag me out of the Temple when you had broken your arm from tending to your father’s night saber. And when you sliced yourself too deep on a thorn in the woods. And when you got a bit too injured for a simple bandage or salve. Like the old days, my old friend,” Arathris responded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night came soon enough, since I had dozed off as soon as we had arrived back at Fanar’s home. When I woke up, I saw Arathris was still here, like she said said she’d be. Fanar was cleaned up more, laying on the couch with his side exposed. Like he had said, there was a nasty gash from where he and Lithmyr had gotten into the fight earlier on. 

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up for a while, Nymia,” Fanar laughed, trying to push himself up. Arathris stopped him though, making sure he stayed down so she could finish up the task he’d asked her to take care of. He flashed her an apologetic smile, and I trudged out into the main room, one hand up rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“Is she your girl, Fanarol?” the priestess asked him. He shook his head, but he looked a little bit sad. I wished he was my father, though, quite a bit. I’d have had a better life had that been the case, but at least I was out of harm’s way. 

“No, sadly. My mate died a couple of months before our first child was to be birthed… but more of me ended up going into little Nymia. So now Nymia, my niece, is living with me after coming from bad conditions.”

“Ah, I see. Had I known about your loss sooner, I would have said something. But, now that I know, I hope she may rest peacefully at the Goddess’s side.”

“I thank you, Arathris. You’ve been a good friend to me.”

“And I return that right back to you. Say, though, are you sure she’s not your girl? You two do look awfully alike.”

“Like I stated before, she’s not. As I have said, my mate passed away before our child was born. Just my niece.” His tone was stern, very stern.

Arathris nodded once more, beckoning me closer. I realized I was standing a distance away from the two of them, and moved forward when I realized just how far off I’d been. I smiled briefly, seating myself beside the priestess and watching as she was about to begin healing Uncle Fanar’s wounds. 

She began to chant something, quietly, though it gradually sounded more musical as it went on. I watched as she pressed her hands against his ribs, and a faint light began to glow around her fingertips. I scooted a little closer to the edge of my seat, trying to take in all the details of what was happening. 

Arathris was in deep concentration, eyes closed as she unconsciously kept on going. The wound was slowly closing up, and the bruising on his side from the broken rib was going away, too. I had a feeling it would remain sore for quite a time, making some things more difficult, but it was healing up quicker than I would have thought possible. I saw, out of the corner of my eye, Fanar wince. It couldn’t have been completely painless, your bone popping into place and skin closing up a wound. 

After a couple minutes of this, Arathris looked a little bit ill in the face. It more than likely took a small toll on her own health, because it seemed like it required something from her in order help Fanar get better. It was strange, but it also looked amazing. She removed her hands, revealing the purple-stained area where the wound was healed up. 

“Woah,” was all I said. This had to be one of the most amazing and awe-filled things I had ever seen.

“It’s interesting to watch it, isn’t it?” she asked me. I nodded once, still staring at where the knife wound should have been, but instead there was nothing there but a simple scar. A long scar, but it wasn’t very wide. Thin, like the knife had been, it seemed, and long, from Lithmyr raking it down his side in an attempt to either kill him or seriously injure him.

“I wish I was able to do that. It helps a lot of people, it looks like,” I responded.

“That it does, young Nymera. But mostly, it helps your uncle, what with all the trouble he seems to get into wherever he goes off to. It’s a good feeling, though, helping him or anyone else who requires treatment. You seem like the type who would be interested in considering this as a career when you get to be a little bit older.”

“You’re right, it does. I’ll have to think on that, because it also looks strong. Not the physical strength, but the more magical and mental parts of strength. I said I’d wanted to be that way when I got older, because I think being all of that will be useful sometime.” This earned a grin out of both of the adults. 

“Good thinking, Nymera. If you do decide to choose this path, I’ll be the first to welcome you to the Sisterhood,” Arathris answered. “But for now, I think I must be on my way. Ande’thoras’ethil, Fanarol, Nymera.” She stood up in one swift motion, giving the two of us a low, graceful bow as she moved to exit the house.

“Shaha lor’ma, Fa’lore Arathris,” Fanar responded in turn.

“Um, Elune’adore, Priestess,” I added. I got a small smile out of that.

I stood there quietly after my brief words of farewell, watching as the door clicked shut behind her. My mind was still swirling around in thoughts of what I had just seen the priestess do. It was quiet for a few moments, mostly because Fanar was thinking and I was still wondering just how someone was able to harness the Goddess’s power for a few moments just to heal someone.

After a moment, I spoke up. “Uncle, why did she call you Elun’dorei?”

“She called me that because I used to go to the Temple and pray every night, when the Chamber was available for public usage. As of late, I have not been going there, mostly because I have to look after you,” he answered. 

“So she called you that because you’re a faithful follower of Elune?” I asked.

“Yes, but everyone is technically a child of the Goddess. We are Her people, after all. It’s why I always carry a pendant of the moon on me, even though many people have never even seen it at all. But when she called me that, she meant it as more of an individual, and not as a whole group.”

“Would the Sisterhood be an example of a whole group?”

“Absolutely. They’re Elune’s most faithful followers, more so than I.”

I was slowly starting to understand what he meant, though it took me a little longer than I’d thought it would to comprehend his full meaning. It might have been simple and I’d been overthinking it, or it might have been complex. I stood there for a moment to run it all through my mind, and did so a couple more times. 

“Uncle, I think I want to join them whenever we get Delin and I’m old enough to do so. It sounds like something I can do, and it’ll be something good, too.” I smiled at him, because in my heart I knew that this is what I wanted to do. 

I’d heard stories, too, that the Sisters were formidable warriors who represented Elune’s fighting side, The Night Warrior. If I had any chance at fighting and being an honorable combatant as well as someone who can heal, I could go there. Serving the Queen as one of her guards wouldn’t be something I’d like. It would just show people how ‘loyal and faithful to the crown the Silverblades were’. If anything, I wanted to show that it was false, that not everyone was fully the Queen’s perfect little devotees.

“That’s a good idea, Nymia. I think you’d be amazing at it. Now, I’ll go and prepare some food. I figure you’ll be hungry soon anyways. You can… well, I don’t know what you can do while you wait. I know I’ve got some books somewhere, on some old legends of our people. They’re... “ Fanar paused, casting a glance around the room. He shook his head and then left the main room for a few minutes, coming back with a small stack of books in his arms.

He moved over by the center table, setting them all down on top. “Here we go. I have more than I remembered. Mostly because I’m a man who loves a good story or two. Or seventy.” I laughed and moved over, taking hold of the book on the very top of the stack. I looked back to see Uncle Fanar grinning, and he nodded at the book. “That’s a good one. Be careful though. I’ve read it so many times that it’s going to need some repairs at some point. Probably soon.”

I looked back at the book I was holding. It was of the legend of Aru’Talis, the ancient city where many believed that someone took from the Well of Eternity and began to mess with it. I remember being around three or four hundred, racing around Mother’s house and finding that book when I went digging through one of her bookshelves.

“Uncle,” I said aloud, hoping he was still there for just a moment. “Before I ever join the Sisters, would you teach me anything you know?” The talk we’d had about strength earlier in the day had resurfaced. 

I heard him chuckle, and looked back to see him standing in the doorway. “I’ll think about it, Nymia. For now, though, wait a little bit so I can feed you.” I nodded to him, though he didn’t see since he was turning to go into the kitchen. Soon as I saw him disappear further in, I stole a glance at the very next book after the Legend of Aru’Talis. 

“Rauv Tvaelin,” I whispered to myself. ‘The Amber-Eyed Twins.’ I don’t recall Mother ever having this one, but I decided I would wait and finish my reading of Aru’Talis. It was a good legend, but I wonder if it was actually real. Maybe I’d go looking for it some day. 

But, who knows? For now, I would sit at my new home and read and be a patient, obedient kid for my Uncle Fanar.


	7. Preparing

Twenty five years had passed before we could finally be able to go back to Mother’s house. It had taken this long because we’d gotten notice from a courier that we were not allowed back, and that if we were, we’d be getting into trouble with not only Grandfather, but also with the city guard. This, though, I hoped would not stop us from what we were planning on doing. I’d get my brother back. I had to.

“Nymia! C’mere. I’ve got something for you to see,” Fanar called. I looked up from my book and around my room, thinking he’d be there to show me whatever he wanted to show me. I’d been re-reading Rauv Tvaelin for what felt like the seven thousandth time already. 

I placed a small strip of cloth in the book to mark where I was, having just finished the epic someone had written about them. It disappointed me a small bit that I had to abandon my reading of how the Twins had received their blades, but I know that I could always pick up the book soon as whatever needed to be done was done.

I set the book on the small table next to the head of my bed, tentatively moving out of what had been turned into my room. Instead of seeing some new book (as he discovered my love of reading) lying on the arm of one of his two couches, there were two people at his side bent over a map they’d laid out on what we called the ‘tea table.’ Fanar was very keen for some tea, at any time of day or night.

“Anta’nar, who are they?” I asked, cocking my head to the side like a confused bird. Fanar looked up, tapping both newcomers on the shoulders. One was a man, who I had never seen before, with hair dyed so light a purple that it was almost a shade of rose-like pink. Silver eyes like me, but duskier as if the moon were being covered by passing clouds. He flashed me a quick smile before glancing at the woman on Fanar’s side.

She raised her head, and I saw that it was Arathris, who had been here to help mend Fanar from when Lithmyr had broken into our house. Same girly face, same deep violet hair, but only in a long braid this time. Her facial tattoos were finally on, and that made me remember as to how she didn’t have them before. They were of an owl. Beautiful, spread across her face, complimenting her, too.

“You remember Arathris, I hope?” he asked me. I nodded once. He, in turn, motioned for the newcomer to speak.

“Kelemval Duskseeker, architect, mage, and heir to my family’s inheritance,” he introduced, giving me a low bow. “Your father invited us here to help with--”

“I am not her father, Emval! I said to you earlier that I am her uncle. It seems you were not listening.”

“Ahaha, but you two look so much alike! Same mane of purple hair, ambition in your eyes, all of that amazing stuff. But, as I was saying, your uncle here asked for some help in getting his son, and your brother, out of your mother’s hands. From what I’ve heard, she is… well, not a good parent. And I am always willing to help anyone close or of relation to my dear friend, here.”

“In other words, he’s one of my contacts that I usually never rely on,” Fanar explained it very bluntly. I nodded, and he motioned me closer to the table. I moved forward enough to where I could see what was laid out on the tabletop. It was a top-down drawing of the layout of my mother’s house, with all the rooms in it.

Now that I looked at it, this seemed… strange. Why were we getting aid from two other people when Fanar could easily sneak in through a window and steal Delin away. Even if he did have some sort of notice that prevented him from going up directly, he could still slip in and slip out with Delin.

“Fanar, why don’t you go in by yourself and sneak out with Delin?” I asked, confused.

“Because she wants me dead. And I’m pretty sure she’ll have placed a sort of warning out that I am mental or a child kidnapper or something along those lines. Dangerous for me, for you, but not really for these two. my association with them is a well-kept secret.”

I nodded once and went quiet, letting the adults talk all of this over. I had no place in deciding who goes where or who does what. Fanar was smart, so he’d be able to do this as easy as if it were reading those books he has. Speaking of which, why didn’t I bring Rauv Tvaelin with me when he’d called me out here?

I stood there, thinking about the book and the Twins accomplishing those great feats. It made me wonder if I would ever do something like that, great enough to be remembered years from now. This was just an idea, so it probably wouldn’t happen. It was nice to think about though, and a good motivator. 

“Nymia? Did you hear me?” asked Fanar. I blinked once, startled, turning my head over to look at him. I shook my head and waited for him to repeat what he’d tried to tell me. He cleared his throat a little bit, then said, “You’re going to get Delin. I know he likes you, so you can get him out easier than I’d be able to. I’m going to give you Nochtuern’al, okay?” 

I nodded again. Regret’s Flame. That was his red sword, the one to oppose the silvery-blue of Silverblade. I’m very sure he had Nochtuern’al forged custom like this on purpose, because he didn’t seem to like our extended family any more than I did. If he was giving me this to use, though, how long would I be holding onto it and how would I use it. I glanced up at him and asked it, since nobody was talking.

Fanar glanced down at me and grinned that crooked toothy grin he had. “Simple, Nymia. Just stick ‘em with the pointy end!”

This made me laugh. I don’t know why, but it did and was very good advice since I had no skill with a weapon of any kind. “Okay then. When’s this going to happen?” 

“In… Oh, I dunno. A week, two? Emval! When’d we say you’d be available for this?”

Kelemval called back from somewhere in the small house, “I’m free all the time! Unless I’m whoring myself out with women--”

“Emval! There’s a child here!” Fanar screamed. 

“Woops, my bad! I meant I’m available for this whenever you’re ready.”

Fanar grunted, shaking his head quietly. “Arathris said she’d be readied up for this within the next week and that she’d send word my way. Not through a messenger boy, though. Possibly through some type of a bird.” 

I nodded to him again and ran back to finish reading Rauv Tvaelin, since I’d been nearly done with it before he’d called me out to discuss how we’d be getting Delin away from Mother. The book was still where I’d placed it whenever I ran to meet Fanar, on the small table, the strip of cloth still in the write place. There’d been some other versions of the story, and some poems too.

Fanar always told me that the epic, which was in the middle of the book, was the true version. He would say that people liked to elaborate and come up with their own stories about it, the few people who knew about the Twins. I didn’t care that much, though, because I’d read it if it was about them. 

I idolized them, more than I did Uncle Fanar. He was my favorite person in the world, but the Twins were something else entirely. There wasn’t a word I could think of to describe them that fit, and the closest one was--

Uncle Fanar had his hand on my shoulder and I could tell something wasn’t right. “Nymia,” he hissed into my ear, “Get under the bed and don’t say anything or do anything. Lithmyr’s back.” I nodded once and scrambled under the bed with the book still in my hands. I softly closed it, which made me lose my spot. I’d find it later, but right now I wasn’t going to disobey Fanar when Lithmyr was just a couple of rooms away. 

My breathing got quiet, since I didn’t want him to hear it and think I was here. Now, I could hear what was going on in the main room, where Kelemval and Arathris and Fanar were, stuck in the presence of his assholiness. I waited for them to start speaking up and screaming about whatever stupid thing they wanted to scream about. It was probably me. But it was also probably Delin. It didn’t take long, though, before I could hear Lithmyr more clearly than the others.

“You’ve got two accomplices with you and possibly even the girl! Selindil is not happy about this, neither is Father! Maybe I should let them know about this, hm?” Lithmyr screamed.

“Lithmyr, Lithmyr, my good man, your brother just invited us over to speak. After all, he is a good friend of ours. In fact, we were going to whore ourselves out in women! And some men for Arathris, though. But that’s after we get drunk, hahah!” Kelemval was saying weird things again, probably to distract Lithmyr. 

“My brother, throwing himself out there again? Surprising, after what happened with his mate! Oh, how I loved watching her die!” And Lithmyr was taunting Fanar. Again. 

‘DON’T YOU DARE TALK ABOUT TARYANDA!” I heard metal gently but swiftly brushing up against leather, which could mean a lot of things. 

“That stick won’t work against me, little brother.” More of that same sound. I couldn’t resist to listen to this so I creeped out from under the bed. Tiptoeing through the small bedroom, I looked around to see if there was a weapon nearby or hidden away somewhere. There was a chest at the end of my bed, which Fanar had told me not to open unless it was an emergency. Right now was what I considered to be one.

I moved over and popped the clasps out of place. He kept it unlocked on purpose, and so I easily pushed the chest top off the main body off it. The hinges creaked quietly in protest, which made me freeze and wait for some sort of statement from Lithmyr or Fanar or any of them. I waited for a moment, and heard nothing. I slowly stopped the top when it reached to the bedframe and let it rest there. 

There was a sword inside. Probably a backup weapon for Fanar, or just an emergency break-in weapon. I didn’t care, I told myself as I lifted it in my left hand. This would have been easy for Fanar to use with just one hand, but I had to use both, with my left on top of my right as I held it. I ran out into the hallway, but slower than I usually would have in case I tripped on my way out there. 

Peeking out of the corner, I could see Arathris with her fists clenched as she backed against the wall, and Kelemval protecting her in case Lithmyr decided to threaten one of them. Fanar was pinned on the ground, barely managing to fend off his brother with Silverblade. He’d stab at an arm or his chest any time Lithmyr got too close. 

I crept forward, shaking worse than an aquaphobic person when they were near water. Fanar must have seen me because he started shaking his head wildly at me. I don’t know why I was doing this, but the thought of running Lithmyr Silverblade through with a sword was a good one. He deserved it. He needed it and he also needed a slow death. I think a couple of people could do that, but I don’t think they lived in Suramar. 

“G-get away from my uncle,” I stuttered, “Or I-I’ll… I’ll stab you.” I was shaking so badly now that my legs wanted to give out on me. Lithmyr got off Fanar and stood up, but he didn’t turn around. His body started shaking, not like mine, but it was shaking. Was he afraid? No, that wasn’t possible. He’s too bulky to be afraid. Then I realized he was laughing.

“Oh my, my, my! Someone thinks they’re all big and bad! Well I’ll tell you what…” he paused, hissing the words at me, “ _little girl_. You can have the first swing at me. Then I’ll beat you to a pulp, bitch. Now go on. Swing.”

I shook so terribly I don’t think I could have. He turned around, and though he was short he still towered over me. My bottom lip trembled because oh, by the Goddess why did I try to face off against a man who could so easily break giant Fanar’s ribs like they were glass? Oh my Goddess I was a fool. I am a fool. I am the biggest fool there is. Why, why, why was I doing this extraordinarily stupid thing? 

“I said swing, bitch.” _I am such an idiot_ , I thought to myself. I inched forward and swallowed nervously. My palms were clammy and fear coursed through my veins like… like something else that ran through veins. I’m not a poet. I’m an idiot kid who’s trying to save the good uncle from the evil uncle.

“SWING!” 

And I did. I swung and I swung the sword up high, up near his face. The blade dragged across his face and I was close enough to see it made a moderately deep slice from the bottom of his left cheekbone to the right end of his forehead. Swinging the blade and seeing that slice across his face made me feel good, but I wasn’t going to try and do anything else. 

He hissed, and I saw Kelemval creeping up behind him. He had something large and heavy in his hands and he raised it, and swung it towards Lithmyr’s head. It connected with a loud cracking noise. Then down fell the spoiled child. 

“Emval, Arathris, please take him far enough away from here to where he won’t find our home again. I’ve got to take care of Nymia real quick.” Both of them nodded and dragged Lithmyr away, while I was guided back to my bedroom by Fanar.

“You were very brave doing that, you know? I’m proud of you,” Fanar told me. The sword was still in my hands, so I held it out for him to take. He chuckled and took it from me, then walked out of the room for a second. He was back really soon, and I was still shaking from what’d I’d done and why I was so intent on hurting Lithmyr. “It was reckless, but I’m still proud. You did a nice slicing job, too. I can teach you so you have proper technique and so on, but you’ll have to promise to use those skills only in emergencies, okay?” 

I smiled and nodded. “Yeah. I was afraid, though. I didn’t want him to hurt you and I just followed a feeling in my gut.” 

At that, Fanar laughed. He threw his head back and laughed like a kid my age. “Gut instinct, eh? Smart. That always came in handy when I was in the military. Speaking of which, that wasn’t too long ago. Maybe a… wait, how old are you?”

“Almost nine hundred.”

“Yeah, I’m about four and a half thousand. Was in for two thousand but it wasn’t really my thing, you know? Now, before I risk you doing something reckless again, get some sleep, okay?”

I nodded again. I would need to rest, because this all managed to take place in the time right before dawn came on us. Hopefully Tary would appear again. I had a lot of questions. Lots more than I should have. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I was outside of Zin’Azshari again, and of course everything was normal. If you’d count everything going on in my life to be normal, that is. I glanced around and pinched myself, but it was padded and soft and unfelt like everything in a dream was. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and when I looked behind myself I saw the main gates with two guards by the walls, both of which looked like Fanar and stood like statues, staring unblinking into the distance.

“Find your way back here, hm?” I immediately whipped back around to find Tary standing there with a soft smile on her lips. 

“I guess. I’ve just got a lot of questions after tonight. Fanar told his brother to not talk about Taryanda. I’m assuming that’s your full name and it makes me wonder what happened and why you didn’t tell me your full name.”

Her smile spread into a grin as she laughed. “Fanarol and Lithmyr fighting again? What was it this time? When I was younger, those two were always at odds, and Lithmyr was constantly trying to get him into trouble.”

“I can’t remember well. Lithmyr came in looking for me and he threatened Fanar and he screamed ‘Don’t you dare talk about Taryanda!’” I answered. “Why do they fight, anyways?”

“Fanarol and I used to be together. That, however, is a story for another time. The reason they fight is different for both of them. Lithmyr fights for daddy’s favor, and Fanarol says they fight because his elder brother is jealous of him. Jealous about everything. As for why I didn’t tell you my full name, I didn’t think it was that important. Names are just names, after all.”

“I guess you’re right. I was also wondering about your note to Fanar. The second half of it. ‘Remember, things aren’t as they seem,’ specifically. What’d you mean by that?” I asked, folding my hands together behind my back. At this, her smile died down to a disturbed and worried expression. 

“You’ll find that out soon. I promise.”

And that was the last time I saw her in a long, long time.


	8. Finally

Three weeks went by before anything happened. One day during that third week Fanar woke me up in the middle of the day, and I was still groggy from the bad sleep I had. I’d been so excited about what we were going to do that it was hard to get rest. 

“Nymia, wake up you little cub,” Fanar softly whispered to me as I pulled myself out of bed. He did this because if we set off now, we’d arrive in Ara’Hinam during the daylight. I rubbed at my eyes to try and wake up a bit more so I wasn’t half asleep when we went out. But maybe he’d let me sleep when I was on Seranna. 

“D’you have your sword?” I yawned. Through my half-closed eyes I saw him nod once and I did the same in turn. 

“Once we get to Sera you can head back to sleep. Arathris and Emval said they’d be there before us. Thank the Goddess for Emval though.” 

I stumbled after him for a couple of steps before I felt his hand on my shoulder, stopping me from going any farther. “Anta’nar, what…” I barely got farther than those couple words before I realized he was carrying me. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d have thanked him, but I just kept quiet as he carried me out to Seranna. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I woke, there was a silhouette of towering buildings in the distance, but I closed my eyes quickly since I heard Fanar talking with someone.

“Emval, I understand that she wants her brother back, but I’m still not sure about letting her go in there again. The last time she was there, Lithmyr… I shouldn’t say. It’s not for me to tell. But I’m just worried.” Fanar.

“My friend, I get that you’re worried, but you’ve taught her a good deal in a short three weeks. She does a good parry, I’ll give her that. Anyways, she’ll be near the back of what goes on. You said yourself she’d be getting her brother, and that it wouldn’t be remotely close to what’s going on.”

“I know, I just can’t help but worry. What if something happens to her again? Wh--”

“Stop. Worrying. You’ll only make things worse. I promise you, nothing bad will happen, okay? I get where the concern is coming from, but I’ll make sure she’s safe if you ever get separated from her or vice versa. Plus, during this whole ordeal, she’ll have your sword with her.”

“I don’t know why I’m letting her do this, but she was so set on getting her brother. I can’t believe I’m letting her do this though. Anyways, thank you, Emval. Before we shut up, would you be her godfather? I’m basically the only good family she has. I don’t know what I would do if she didn’t have someone other than myself to watch over her, you know?” 

“Alright, don’t get all sentimental on me, Fan,” Emval laughed. I groaned and acted like I just woke up from a good dream. I straightened up, and felt Fanar’s hand on my shoulder again so I’d still be in a good position on the back of Seranna. 

“How far are we until we get there?” I asked, the tiredness still present in my voice. I glanced behind myself to look at Kelemval and Fanar, Kelemval smiling like something good had happened to him. Which something did, because I’d heard the whole thing. I’m pretty sure they didn’t notice I was awake during that. 

“Not too far now, but put your head down. Remember what your mother did?” I nodded once as Fanar went on. “Rude, huh?” I giggled and nodded again, then did as he said. I saw brief movements from what I assumed to be people in the corners of my eyes, and it made me wonder if they knew anything about what was going on with my family and why it was happening in the first place.

I got lost in my thoughts and hoped we’d get there quicker, and I was also surprised that a priestess was aiding us in this. I guess Arathris was just doing what she thought was best, though. It would make sense, if you knew what was going on. I was just glad we’d have more help during this whole possibly criminal--Who am I kidding? This would definitely land us into trouble with the authorities if they found out. 

Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I realized it was Kelemval. He helped me dismount the saber and glanced around for a moment before he led me a little ways’ off from Seranna and held out Uncle Fanar’s sword to me. It was in its sheath, but I knew I’d have to use both of my hands (again) to effectively use it. 

I hesitated before I reached out and took hold of the blade, and I flashed him a quick smile of thanks. I can’t believe I was going to do something this reckless. Even if I was set on doing this, I was afraid that a single slip-up would ruin what we’d planned out. Fanar was off somewhere at the front door, like he’d said he would. Staging something, but I can’t remember what.

“Emval--” I started, only for him to quietly shush me. “Sorry. When do we go in?” 

“Soon, mini-Fan.” He still seemed to think me Fanar’s daughter, it sounded like. After was Mother’s mate told me, though, I found myself at times stopping my own words because I almost called him ‘an’da.’

I felt him nudge me forwards, near a window located within a couple of rooms’ length away from Delin’s room. He’d be almost two hundred now, if I remembered correctly. Kelemval silently opened up the window and climbed inside. His head popped up soon afterwards, his hands poking out and being held towards me to help me in. I grabbed onto his hands and was pulled in, 

When I got in there, I took a moment to look around the room we were in. Mother’s house had so many rooms that it would get hard to navigate unless you knew this place like the back of your hand. Glancing around, I took note of the more expensive looking items placed here, then glancing over at the weapons’ rack--

This was Grandfather’s room, if he ever spent a couple of days here. The man was obsessed with heavy weaponry, which was obvious by the extremely large battleaxe he carried on himself at all times. I’d be surprised if he took it off when he went to sleep. I wouldn’t bet on it, though. 

“Please tell me you know where we are. This place is too big, and I can usually navigate larger places. Your parents just love to show off their money.”

“Mhm. I think they rearranged the rooms on purpose this time, though.They’ve got a whole room of statues of the higher-ranking peoples from the court. It’s really creepy. Now c’mon. I know we’re close to Delin’s room, but I don’t know just how close.” I sprinted forward like a rabbit who’d seen a hoard of carrots, opening the door and looking both ways before I went looking through every possible room to find my brother.

Both ways were clear, so I decided right was the best way to go. It was always how I found my room, which was now Delin’s. And I know that there were three rooms to mine’s left, so I started counting off the rooms. Grandfather’s wasn’t counted, not right now. I tiptoed on, and looked to my right side. There was a door coming up in a couple of yards, and that started me at a light jog. One. 

I went on farther, heart beating faster and faster as I hoped we’d be able to reach him before Mother or her mate or Lithmyr or anyone else who was with them did. I glanced behind myself to see Kelemval with a longsword in his left hand, the handle a very dark wood (probably very expensive for my mother to flaunt about) with a pearl pommel. Yep. It was for my mother to flaunt. I think Kelemval just grabbed the first weapon from Grandfather’s room he saw, though. 

Two. Closer. My legs went faster and my feet began slamming into the floor. All of my quietness was forgotten because I had to get to Delin. He was the only thing that mattered right now. The only thing that I needed to focus on, and everything that wasn’t Delin could wait for another six hundred years. Another six hundred years or--

Screaming and thrashing. Deep voices, but raised so high you could have probably heard them outside. “Nymia, as far as I know, nobody else is in these rooms but us. I need to help your father.”

“He isn’t my father!”

“Do you honestly think I care at this point? I need to help him. I have a feeling that brother of his is here. But don’t worry. It shouldn’t be too long. Keep going and go out the way we came.”

“Alright,” I said as Kelemval ran ahead of me and turned left down another hallway. I kept moving and threw my body to the right, thinking I’d be able to knock down a door. It, of course, didn’t work, mostly because I weighed around ninety pounds of pure fear. I did, however, succeed in bruising my shoulder. I stepped back and opened the door instead, hoping nobody was in there. 

When I looked in, I realized I’d just ruined my luck. Lithmyr was in there, so it was probably Mother and her mate that was fighting with Fanar and Kelemval. Great. He was holding something over an elevated bowl of… something. I took a quick whiff to try and figure out what it was he was doing, and when I inhaled I smelled smoke. 

He turned around, pulling whatever it was out of the bowl-shaped object. When he pulled out the first thing, I saw there was heated metal in the shape of a dagger on the end of a long-ish pole. I could have sworn my heart leapt up to my throat, and I reached both hands behind my back to pull out Nochtuern’al.

I tried to distract myself by thinking about how small the sword looked with Fanar but how large it seemed to be when I held it. I also wondered just why it was called Flame of Regret when it could have been called something like Nor’al Serrar; Heaven’s Flaming Blade. It was beautiful when alone, but it became even more so when placed next to Silverblade. 

“Well now. If it isn’t the little bitch who ruined my good looks.”

“I always thought you’d look better with a scarred up face.” I held the sword out in front of me, gripping the hilt of it so tight that my knuckles were going white. I was already pale as it was when it came to skin tones, but now my knuckles could easily be the palest part of me. I tore my gaze away from my hands and looked up just in time to see Lithmyr drawing his weapon.

I got into the stance Fanar had taught me, where my left foot was lined up a little behind my shoulder, my right foot in front of me and my knees bent. The sword stayed in my line of sight, and I steeled my face to try and mask the intense amount of fear bubbling up inside of me. Wow, was I a dimwit for squaring off against someone a foot taller than me and had more experience on their side. 

He lay the dagger-shaped iron back into the fire, handle far enough out for him to grab and use later on. Lithmyr took a step forward, and it took all my being to not turn around and run away from him. His sword he raised up high, and then brought it down on me. I remembered what Fanar had taught me, so I swiftly dragged my right foot towards me. I kept my weapon’s blade facing his way and the tip of my sword took the brunt of the attack. I was shaken, but not too bad because of the blade. 

There was an opening where Lithmyr drew his blade back to try and strike me again, but I managed to be quick and thrust the blade into his gut. He reeled back immediately, while I took the chance to sheath my blade and make a break towards Delin, who was unharmed and lying in his crib. I reached in and grabbed him out so that Lithmyr couldn’t go over there and snatch him away from me so soon. As soon as I got him, I turned towards the door and ran, only to trip on something. 

I never did see what exactly I tripped over, but I made sure it was myself who took the fall and not little Delin, whose silvery eyes gleamed so bright with curiosity. It hurt when I fell, though I was just glad that my little brother was unharmed and still looking this way or that to see what there was to see. 

I started to crawl forwards but I was stopped by a boot on my back. Lithmyr, again. Looking over my shoulder, I saw he had the dagger-shaped iron in his hand and raised up from the fire, the metal burning a bright orange-red. I noticed just how small the iron was, and how it could easily have been the length of my calves.

My calves. Oh, by the Goddess. He was going to press that hot iron against my skin. And I couldn’t move. But at least it was me. At least it was me and not Delin, but I couldn’t help with the fact that fear was welling up in me like that churning of your stomach right before you threw up your meal. I felt the heat resonating from the iron as it neared my left leg, and I gasped, tears welling in my eyes.

“‘I always thought you’d look better with a scarred up body,’” Lithmyr repeated what I’d told him earlier, and then I screamed so loud. I was afraid Delin wouldn’ be able to hear after that, but oh Goddess. These screams he was pulling from me were worse than those years ago, back before I escaped this cruel place. 

When he forced himself inside of me. 

He kept that iron there for so long I thought I wouldn’t be able to walk. I might have been able to, but it’d have hurt and I probably wouldn’t feel anything much for a while after this. Tears streamed out of my eyes so much to the point where I couldn’t see any blurs, and my breathing was just ragged gasps for air. 

And then the iron was gone, his foot no longer on my back, pinning me down. I tried pushing myself up to see who had saved me, but another person was on me, pushing me back down onto the floor. Looking out from the corner of my eye, I saw it was Kelemval, who then gently scooped up Delin from his spot nearby.

“Stay down, Nymia. Your father saved you because we heard your screams back here. I’m so sorry. I should have stayed here with you.” I nodded once and listened to hear if Uncle Fanar was in a fight with Lithmyr again.

Kelemval placed Delin down, lifting me into his arms since I wasn’t going to be able to walk. He picked Delin up in one hand and handed him to me soon after. He covered my eyes, although I don’t know why if I could still listen to what was going on. I heard hear fighting, possibly from Uncle Fanar and Lithmyr fighting it out. I could feel him moving out towards the door, away from all of this. 

I lost track of time, because he was having to find a different way out with him carrying me carrying Delin through the house. He stopped abruptly at one point, and though my eyes were covered I could hear what went on. 

“Selindil. Come after me to take back the bastard you want to kill?” he asked my mother.

“No. I want you to kill it yourself. And I don’t mean the second one.” She was talking about me, wasn’t she?

“And let me guess, you want the same to be done with the boy?” Kelemval asked again.

“Now you’ve got it right. I can’t tell if you’re siding with me in this matter or just asking me stupid questions,” my mother hissed.

“You’d be a fool to think I’d betray my friend. But tell me, if you didn’t want the boy or the girl, why didn’t you kill them when they were born?”

“For many, many reasons. He’s always been keen on keeping at least one of them to use in his game, you see. And I speak not of my Father, Kelemval Dusteater.”

“You’re one fucked up woman, you know? Now if you could move and overlook this whole issue, that’d be great.”

“I will, actually.” 

“Ah, great. Now move, you insane lady.” He started walking and made sure to keep my eyes covered up. I didn’t want to see this place ever again, so for covering up my eyes I was glad. I’d have to thank him later.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I lost track of time, but eventually we made it home. Fanar still hadn’t come back and it worried me. I couldn’t lose someone else to my mother and Lithmyr. Arathris had come to Fanar’s home once more to deal with the burn on my leg. Kelemval must have called on her services, which made it seem like she was also one of Fanar’s contacts. One he relied on a lot now. She hummed the whole time, hummed different songs I didn’t know or some made up tune. 

It took my mind off of what had gone on, giving me more pleasant things to think about. The good thing was that we got Delin back and Lithmyr hopefully got beat up, but the bad thing was I didn’t know where Fanar was and I probably wouldn’t be able to walk for a while. I went back to the good things, meaning I’d saved my brother from what was probably going to be an awful life.

“Arathris, I’ll be able to walk, right?” I asked.

“Mhm. It’ll just take a long time to heal, a really long time. You’ll have a scar there afterwards, and it might not fade,” she responded, glancing back at Kelemval, who stood by the window. “Is Fanarol back yet? He’s got quite a lot on his plate nowadays.” 

“He’s coming up now, surprisingly. And very bloody. You should probably get another priestess to help tend to him. You can’t waste all your energy, you know.” 

“Too bad. It’s my duty, Emval. If it means I get depleted in the process, it means just that.” She turned to me, a quick smile flashing across her lips before it disappeared. “I’d suggest you lay back and get some rest. Your uncle won’t be going anywhere, and you need sleep. Your brother’s been doing just that for the past couple of hours.” 

I nodded once and lie back, leg propped up on a couple of pillows. As soon as I’d closed my eyes, I had fallen asleep.


	9. Revelations

I highly regret thinking “everything else can wait six hundred years”. I thought that when I was nine hundred years old. I’m now fifteen hundred, and just joined the Sisterhood of Elune. Delin had matured a little bit, and we seldom had any surprise visits from Mother and Lithmyr. I never got to meet up with Tary when I dreamt and Kelemval frequented our home with Arathris. 

The last time I’d seen them, Kelemval and Ararthis announced they were having a child together, and now she was heavily pregnant with said child. I was happy for them. They deserved this, after having dealt with one screwed up family for the past six hundred years.

I’d met someone around my age when I was twelve hundred. Her name was Myn’ra, and lied to her. She didn’t know me as Nymera. She knew me as Taylnar. I’d been thinking of Taryanda and Fanarol at the time we met, and I only blurted the first thing that came to mind. She said I was lying, while I insisted it truly was my name. Right now, I was on my way to meet her when odd things began happening. 

I’d made something for her a week or so ago. She reminded me of a wolf at times, fierce and strong. Out of a small thing of wood and tiny rope, I’d managed to carve out the side of a wolf’s head and a hole to place the roping through. In the past couple of years before I’d joined the Sisterhood, Fanar taught me what he knew. One of those skills happened to be wood carving. 

“Myn! Where are you?” I screamed, standing about our usual meeting place. The girl loved scaring me by hiding behind a tree or a rock. I don’t know how she kept doing this, even though I’d caught onto this whole thing quite fast. “Myn, really. I’ve got something you might like.”

“Show me, then.” Came her voice from… somewhere, I couldn’t really tell. I gripped the pendant in my left hand, which was tucked into a pocket on the tunic I’d thrown over myself. I felt a pair of hands clamp down on my shoulders and jumped in the air. It was Myn, I knew, but I still didn’t know why that always managed to scare me. 

“Goddess, how do you always scare me like that?” I grumbled. I heard her laughing behind me, like she always would. “Anyways, never mind that. C’mere.” I pulled the wolf pendant out of my pocket and waited as she moved over. It remained hidden in my hand so she wouldn’t be able to start guessing about what it was. She surprises me, and I will surprise her.

When she was close enough, I held out my hand and opened it to reveal said pendant to her. I saw a grin spread across her face, so I assumed she was surprised or happy that I’d done something nice for her. 

“If you turn around,” I started, “I can put it on you, you know. And uh, you brought something sharp to chop this mane of mine off, right?” Myn nodded once as I secured the amulet around her neck, and I still couldn’t tell if she liked it. I put my hands behind my back when it was secured, so I decided I’d stand back and watch her.

“Now, you can take a seat and let me get all that hair off. How do you even work with that mane and not have it pulled back? It’s not smart if you’re gonna be bending down to heal someone and their broken arm,” she told me. In a sense, I guess she was right. I was only letting her do this because she thought I’d look better.

I rolled my eyes and sat down where I was, not caring if the breeches I was in got dirtied up or not. They were old, anyways, and I could always ask Arathris or Emval to get the holes in the knees or wherever they were sewn back up. 

“Do you mind if I grab a handful of hair and saw it off?” Myn asked.

“Not at all.”

Behind me I could hear her pulling out a small dagger to do what I’d asked. I felt her grab up all the hair that hung below the middle area of my neck and pull it back, beginning her task of sawing this off. I was patient, and didn’t mind the feeling of some locks of hair resting on either my shoulders or on my back. It could all be easily wiped off. 

I don’t know how much time went by, (since my hair was thicker than Lithmyr’s ego) but something, I’m not sure what, went through the air. It was like I’d been cut off from something that I didn’t know I relied on until just now. My entire body tensed at this, earning a few unpleasant grumbles from Myn.

“Please tell me I’m not the only one that felt it,” I said to no one in particular. Something really didn’t feel right, and it was probably because I was either, a: paranoid, or b: something actually was not right. For now, I was going with a.

“That… thing in the air?” Myn asked. I nodded once and stood up, looking around to see if there was someone playing a joke on us or not. There probably wasn’t, but it was always safe to see. “I don’t think there’s anyone else here besides us.”

“Thanks for lopping off my hair. I owe you one, but right now I need to get back to my brother, okay?” 

“If you’re going, at least let me come with you. You still haven’t introduced me to Delin.”

“Myn, don’t you also have a family?” I turned around and sprinted back the way I’d come from, hoping she wasn’t following. I was just afraid because of Delin, who wasn’t even one thousand yet and still had no clue about his being a bastard. A bastard. Like me. “Besides, you can meet him later. He’ll always be around.”

I ran faster. Home couldn’t be too far, since it wasn’t too far from the Temple. Arathris was probably there, or maybe at the house she shared with Emval, but I needed to get home and see if Delin was okay. Delin, like always, is the only thing that matters to me. Even if the world comes crashing down. 

After running back from the woods and the Temple and home, getting there was quick. Quicker in my breeches and tunic than in the white robes of a novice priestess. For a novice, I’d already been given a sort of personal mentor already.

Arathris had personally asked to train me, because she said I was like a daughter to her. Emval said that, too. I knew Fanar would say the same, but hadn’t heard it come from him. I hadn’t seen much of Fanar as of late, since he was usually off somewhere because he had to do a few favors. When I wasn’t at the Temple with Arathris, he’d always come home in the mornings looking sullen and tired.

Yes, sneaking out for a little bit to see family was not appreciated, but I was paranoid when it came to Delin. I’d managed to avoid getting caught but I feel like I’d be caught sooner or later. Right now, it was all just a matter of time before that happened.

“Delin!” I said, bursting through the front door. “Delin, you felt that thing, right?” I clicked the door shut behind me and moved on, down the short hallway to the room my brother and I shared. As I suspected, he was reading one of the many books that our uncle owned. This book, though, was one he’d not read yet, and it just so happened to be my favorite: Rauv Tvaelin. “Delin, nose out of the book!” 

No matter what I said, nothing seemed to get through. He must’ve been sucked into this for quite a while. I sighed, looking around for a strip of cloth to mark his spot. He called me heartless sometimes because of this, but I wasn’t _that_ heartless. At least he’d still have his spot. I took a few steps over and dangled the cloth in front of the book, and somehow Delin failed to notice it (oblivious child). It didn’t take me long to snap the book shut on him, to which I got immediate protests.

“Hey! I was reading that!” he pouted. “You heartless sister. Why’d you have to do that, anyways? It’s not like I did something wrong again.”

“Stand very still, and focus on the air. You do notice that feeling of…. emptiness or whatever, right?” I asked. He stood and stared at nothing, furrowing his brow like he was trying to figure out some riddle somebody’d just asked him. In a way, I guess this feeling was a riddle. Delin blinked once, and then I saw his eyes widen like he just noticed that strange emptiness that went through the air. 

“...I thought that was just the feeling I was getting from reading Rauv Tvaelin,” he whispered quietly. I shook my head. “So it wasn’t the book? Then what was it, Nym?” 

“That’s what I’ve been asking you. Where’s Anta’nar at?”

“He said he was going to the Temple, and told me to stay in our room. He said if I didn’t that bad people might find me.”

Delin, you poor innocent child. You didn’t even know the half of it. I slammed my face into my palm, because Fanar just said he wasn’t able to go there. “He just got banned from going there! What is wrong with him? Delin stay in your room because I have to see Arathris!” He nodded once, and it sounded like he’d said something but I paid it no mind. 

As I went into the main room, I saw Emval standing there. He’d probably just let himself in again, like he usually would. Fanar said he’d do that, and would sometimes do so before I moved in with him. He nodded at me and motioned for me to sit down somewhere. This more than likely meant that he had no good news, or he had something of importance to tell me.

“Emval, how come you’re here? You’re usually around every couple of days,” I said. “But if you’re going to talk to me about Uncle Fanar, I--”

“Lithmyr paid us a visit. He went on and on about how he’s gone and done something to your Uncle, threatened to hurt Arathris if he didn’t get who he wanted.”

“Wait, is he the one who was said to be harassing the two priestesses when they would exit the Temple? If he is, we should have killed him when we’d had our chance, back when we got Delin out--” I lowered my voice, remembering Delin was still here. We’d made sure not to tell him just who his parents were, only that he was related to me. 

Emval shook his head.

“Who was it?” Emval didn’t respond. “Who. Was. It?” I asked again. Still nothing. He usually answered me on this, but now it seemed like he didn’t want me to know. I stood there and waited, waited for him to say something, anything, but he didn’t. I had to know. Things weren’t right, and I needed to know so I could keep Delin out of harm’s way.

“It was your father…” 

I stared at him in disbelief. “He wouldn’t do that! You’ve seen how he treats women. He wouldn’t just go and harass them--”

“Well he did it! Now Arathris and I are keeping you two--” He included Delin. “--out of trouble!” 

“I think it was Lithmyr. But I’ve got some questions for Fanar and I can’t find him.” 

Conveniently, way too conveniently, the door swung open to reveal Uncle Fanar. He was looking different, like himself at all. His eyes were much more shadowy than usual, and the way his frame looked was much thinner, like he’d been starving himself. How had I not noticed it before? “I was eavesdropping before I came in. What’s it you wanted to ask me?” 

I bit my lip, not too sure that I wanted to ask him anything. “Um… a few centuries ago. Grandfather talked about a “Moonblade woman’s son” and the throne. Who is he talking about? I thought we were the Queen’s loyal little puppets, too. Lithmyr would go on about damning her to hell and he broke that stupid statue of her. Why? I thought we were the Light of Lights’ servants.”

Fanar, who never seemed to hesitate, hesitated. He opened his mouth, then clamped it shut like a marionette doll. He strode over to one of the couches to take a seat. His movements were forced, like he was struggling to not let a demon or something evil take over his mind. Something was definitely wrong. I stole a glance at Emval, who was entering the small hallway and turning to face my room, probably to distract Delin. 

“Nil…. “ he trailed of into a grunt. “We don’t serve the Queen. Our family hates her.”

“So, we’re lying to everyone?” I asked. He nodded. “Then who do we serve?”

“A Moonblade, little Nymia. Your grandfath…. Shouldn’t you be at the temple?” he asked me.

“The Temple, Uncle, can wait! Right now I need to figure out what’s going on.” I turned on my heel to go to my room, where I had notes on this chat to add. I hope Lithmyr dies, and this Moonblade too. Grandfather and Mother as well. 

That snap we felt earlier, which felt like we’d been cut off from something, would be added. This is why I regret letting everything wait for six hundred years. Hell would more than likely break loose. But, whatever was going on, I had to make sure Delin was safe. He’s all that matters.


	10. Flee

I’m just going to put it out there, because I have absolutely no time at all to explain what happened in the following days. We’re in the middle of a demon invasion. This is why I should stop saying things can wait. Because when I do, bad things happen. Right now, I’m running for my life. I can run, but I hate it.

“Nymia! Don’t look back! Whatever you do, do NOT stop running! Take your brother and go!” Fanar had screamed when everyone was evacuating. I had my staff and Nochtuern’al strapped to my back to keep Delin safe. He was too young for all of this. Emval said Arathris was at the Temple, making sure everyone there was safely out of harm’s way. 

He said he’d be fine, that he had no doubt Arathris would be fine. “Nymera, keep running! Fanarol will be fine, as will Arathris. They’re well equipped to handle this, and you know it.”

“Arathris is pregnant, and Fanarol isn’t well! I could easily help them! I’ve got Nochtuern’al, I’ve got my staff, I can fight!” I retorted. 

“You are a child and your brother needs you! You will not run off!” Emval spat. I, however, was a stubborn child. I looked behind me, the very thing I was told to not do. People were still streaming from every part of the city. I pulled back a little to stand next to Delin, and barely managed to get low enough to whisper in his ear.

“Hey, Delin, Bookworm. Run, and don’t look back. I’ve gotta grab you something to read, I forgot about them. Be quiet, and keep track of Emval. Now get going. I’ll be back soon. I promise.” He gave me a small nod before I turned around at darted off into the other direction. Now, I needed to retrieve books. 

My brother loved his books, but after reading Rauv Tvaelin, he’d decided that story was his favorite. I nearly had to force him to stop reading it before he ruined the book’s cover. It was already in desperate need of a rebinding. I had to get that and make sure it didn’t get damaged further or fall apart on me. 

But I needed to make sure Fanar was okay. He was somewhere near the Temple, more than likely. Arathris, though? I had not a single clue as to where my teacher would be. Speeding through the streets of a city slowly being invaded by creatures of demonic origin was not giving me much time to stop here or there and search around for her. 

It took me a little bit, but I managed to reach the Temple in time to see a woman clad in the garb of a priestess. People were still fleeing the city, as chaos had easily erupted, and those still inside needed to get out. A dead… thing… lay off closer by the woods, tentacles hanging limp at the sides of its red hide and blacker-than-night mane. Whatever it was, I didn’t want to see it. 

The priestess, though, was helping to evacuate everyone. I don’t know how many people had already left the city, but I feel like this would be one of the last groups to make it out alive. She looked familiar, the woman helping everyone. Elegant robes, still with the whites and silvers that marked one as a Sister of-- 

This was the High Priestess. There were others around her that I could see, though I stood a good distance from them. One of those closest to her was dressed in some form of battlegear, with hair the color of pines. She was young, as far as I could tell. But I was too far away to be completely sure. 

Those who were in the Temple poured out of the buildings, right as more of those red-hided creatures. I was too young to fight, they’d say, and I saw no sign of Fanar or Arathris, so all I could do was turn around and make my way back home, to where the books were. Books, so Delin wouldn’t panic any more than he probably was. 

Now was the one time I didn’t mentally hit myself for living so close to where I should’ve been beginning my career. But because of the things I saw at the Temple, I couldn’t continue my studies here. I’d possibly be moved to the temple where the High Priestess Kalo’thera was said to ascend to the stars. 

I was also thankful I could run fast enough to reach home in just a few quick minutes. It took me longer than just a few, more than likely, but it felt like it. My pace slowed to a jog as I started to near my house’s front door, and I drew Nochtuern’al from it’s place on my back. After what I saw at the Temple, I thought it’d be smart to have a weapon at the ready. 

Pulling the door back, I didn’t see a single red-pelted creature in there, nor anything. Not until I took a step inside, I saw Lithmyr sitting against the wall with a book in his hands. He always appeared at the most convenient time. This was ridiculous, so I shut the door as quietly as I could and crept over to the hallway to my room. 

I laid my feet down lightly, as to not disturb Lithmyr and alert him that there was someone else here besides himself. Reaching my room, I saw the only disturbed thing was the bed Delin and I shared, as we’d been forced out of it earlier due to the things like that red-hide thing. There was a bag laying nearby, which meant Delin intended to grab a few things but couldn’t. My memories from waking up have not been clear.

I scooped this up and moved over to the bookshelf, shoving as many in there that would fit. This took up half the bag, since I could not afford to let Delin go with only one pair of clothing. Moving over to where his clothes were stored, I snatched as much as I could and crammed it into where it’d fit and fill the bag. I’d be fine, I was sure of it. My brother would need a lot more, as he was used to this sort of life, but he’d have to tolerate this… running and less food for now. 

Slinging this over my shoulder, my blade still in hand, I crept back into the main room and closer to Lithmyr. But, on my way over, I stopped. He was talking to the book he held, like it were someone he knew. An old friend, perhaps. 

“Oh, Tary… Why did you go with my brother in the end? I loved you so very much. You were my queen. I could have done so, so much for you. Please, come back. I miss you. It’s dark here, without you. But you can’t come back at all, can you?” He was sad, and it hurt a little, but more because he was talking about Taryanda. 

“But no! Damn my sister. Why, why, why did Father have to feed that poison to her? She couldn’t stand the thought of anyone being better than her. That’s why she did what she did, pushed you off that cliff. She thought you were better and killed you. She thought my brother, my little brother who did nothing wrong, was better. And she raped him. She tied him up and beat him with a stick!” 

He was crying. I could tell from the way his breaths came; deep, controlled, and loud. He was trying to hold back sobs. Lithmyr, who acted like he hated everyone, was crying because he missed Taryanda. He’d taken this moment to calm down, so he could keep talking to that book, and I pitied him. 

“After that, she made sure he couldn’t do a damn thing and told him this was what he got for being better. Now I know, though, that he is the reason all this damned shit happened. That he plotted against us, like Father would have! Thank the Goddess Nilan told me all of it. He helped me, but I still. Can’t. Have you.” 

Lithmyr’s voice went up an octave as he choked out the words through clenched teeth. He truly was a pathetic man, I saw now. Fanar wouldn’t plot against him. Fanar even said he loved his brother, but he wasn’t right in the head. That this was why he hated everyone, why he tried to get Delin out of us, why he....

Why he did those things to me. 

I moved closer, the blade stretched out away from my arm. My feet were set as I edged closer, set so I could get a better attack in with my weapon. I remembered what Fanar had told me, years ago after we rescued Delin, as I inched towards Lithmyr. ‘The blade is an extension of you. If you use it right, it will only aid you.’ 

Now I was close enough to see the print on the book’s spine, on that old beat up cover. It was Rauv Tvaelin. He was looking at the note Tary had left for Fanar. He didn’t notice me, like Delin hardly ever did when I tried to stop his reading. I made a hissing noise, which made him whip his head up. Good. He wasn’t as oblivious as my brother was. 

“What are _you_ doing here?!” he growled.

“I’m after that book. My brother needs it. And I could slide the blade into your throat now, but I won’t. Get out of here, if you decide to give me the book and not kill me. There’s stuff coming that’s not good, that will kill you. I just want the book,” I said, trying to be calm about being this close to the man who stole my happiness away. “It’s the last thing I have of my childhood, the one I let Delin have so he’d be safe from you.”

He grunted once, and a sigh followed immediately after that. “Fine. Take it. I only wanted to see the last surviving thing of the woman I loved more than myself.” He tossed the book away, down at my feet and didn’t move. “Take it and go away, damn you.”

I bent down and picked the book up, opening the bag at my side and forcing it to fit in. I closed it, mostly so he’d not steal it away. My eyes remained on him, even as I did this. I didn’t trust him, as much as I pitied him right now. 

Out of instinct and a slight fear, I sped towards the door. My hand was already twisting the knob when I hesitated. I don’t know why. I just did, and I glanced back at Lithmyr. He had his face buried in his palms and those hands were propped up on his knees. He looked smaller than ever. 

“Um… Lith,” I stated, which caused him to stir, but only briefly. “Thank you for the book.” No response, so I turned the handle further and threw the door open. I began stepping out and waited for him to get away, as I saw more of those wolf-like things with the red hides were starting to make their way down the street.

I’d wasted too much time, and I glanced back to Lithmyr once more. “Lith. Get out of here, please. Your brother’s worried for you.” And that was the last time I saw him a long, long time. And that was also the last thing I said to him. But that last sentence was another lie. And I let him live, all because I’d kill him another day.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took me hours to reach the main procession of those who escaped Suramar. In the chaos I ran through on my way back, I saw most of those who fled with me were lying dead, their blood staining the ground around them. Some were sliced open, others were shriveled and dried up like husks. And there were those who looked… melted. Like something poured molten rock over them. 

“Oh, Goddess,” I had said when I stood among them. “May She embrace you with open arms and an open heart, so that you may find peace with Her in your eternal slumber.” I knew they’d not hear me. I gave the dead one of the first things I’d been taught in my time at the Temple. 

After that, I ran. I ran as fast as I could and didn’t dare stop. Delin and Fanar and Emval might have been hurt. And Emval even told me that Delin would need me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Finally, after all that running, I reached where they’d all fled. All those who lived, anyways. There was a main dressed in the armors of a soldier, one of what I believed to be Lord Ravencrest’s men. Emval had said they’d made their way through the city only days before Fanar was said to have harassed the priestesses. 

“Sir! Sir, is this where everyone is? From Suramar?” I wheezed as I made my way closer. The man, who was possibly a sentry, nodded only once. “Thank you,” I muttered as I entered the camp. 

As I moved around, I spotted a group of people some couple of yards from the main encampment. Everyone I saw was dirty, injured, and ranging from a child to an elder in age. This meant Delin was here. I jogged over there, looking around for him, but saw not him or Emval or even Arathris. 

“Where have you been?” a man hissed into my ear. I jumped and turned around, and saw that it was Emval. Thank the Goddess, he was safe.

“I was getting something for Delin. And I had to get Fanar’s copy of Rauv Tvaelin back,” I explained.

“You shouldn’t go running off like that! You were gone for so long and I was so worried. What would I have told your father if you’d run away from me only to get yourself killed?” he retorted. “Now come along. Your brother was asking me questions about where you were and what you were doing.”

He led me over to where Delin was, and he was propped up against a tree hugging his legs to his chest. As soon as he saw Emval he jumped up and looked around for me. Emval only herded him back to where he’d been sitting, and forced him back down. I moved out from behind Emval, and saw Delin’s face light up.

“Nym! Are you okay? What’d you see back there? Was Anta’nar at home?” he asked. 

“Delin, calm down. I’m fine, first off,” I started, “And I saw things that… I saw a lot of things from when you guys were running away. Anta’nar wasn’t there, no. But, I did go home. I got you a few pairs of clothes so you’re not stuck wearing anything dirty, and I also got some of your favorite books.”

He looked at me with wide eyes as I sat myself across from him. “Even Rauv’dris Tvaelin?” He loved that book so much, he’d even used the full title. ‘The Amber-Eyed Twins.’ I nodded once and he grinned so wide I thought it’d split his little face open.

I turned to my side, where the bag that held what he’d wanted and what he’d needed was. I undid the clasp on it and rummaged around through the clothes and books, finding what he so desperately wanted. As soon as I handed it to him, though, his first instinct was to open up the book and start reading it all over again. 

Emval stood up and stretched, looking around at everyone who was stuck here with us. I wonder if Myn’ra and her family were here. I only hope she’s okay. 

“Nymia, get some rest. You’re tired, because I suspect you saw the dead bodies of those you could call friends, and I don’t think you want to talk about any of that stuff right now. I’m going to make sure you guys live through this whole thing, so I can present you two to your father and say ‘They’re alive.’ Now sleep, you scrawny little running girl.”

I grinned at him, but that faded. I wouldn’t sleep, not for a while. There was too much insanity going on that I had tried to make sense of it all. I couldn’t, but I tried. What Emval said about surviving this, it didn’t matter that I did. Only that Delin would live. I’d give the entire world for him.


	11. Brother

_For the next few days, I was with the priestesses. Tending to the injured, learning what I could because I could not find Arathris. Emval had gone to the main party, where those who tried to combat these things were. As usual, Emval was gone for a long time and Arathris Goddess knows where, leaving Delin to follow me around because there was no one else who could keep an eye on him._

_“Nym, where’s Fanar?” he asked me once I managed to sit down for a break. “And where’s Emval and Arathris?” I shrugged and glanced over to look at him. There was dirt on nearly every spot of him and it tangled his hair so terribly. If I had any way of cleaning him up, I would. But I didn’t and it made me feel bad for him._

_Delin didn’t take my shrug as an answer and put on a face. “I don’t know, thor en’shu.” Troublesome brother, I called him. He wasn’t really that much trouble, but it was what I called him. He looked saddened that I didn’t know, because he always seemed to think I knew everything._

_He sat back with that satchel laying against his side. There was a book poking out of it, most likely one of the children’s tales about the Forest Lord Cenarius and the White Stag Malorne. Such a fool for books, he was. If I could, I’d give him the world’s supply of them and the world plus more. But right now, I don’t even think I would get to see the world after these… things came to our home._

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__A couple of weeks went by of advancing and advancing, the priestesses doing as much as they could to try and help everyone. During this time, I met another girl about my age who went by Janedria. She was a refugee from somewhere not too far from Suramar. She had arrived not too long ago, frail and with no food to last her._ _

__Hardly anyone had food though, and there would be those who would dare to go into the woods to scrounge about for berries and other edible things. Rarely they’d have anything with them, because most of the time they just went on and on and on about those strange creatures with tentacles on their backs and pelts redder than red._ _

__Janedria went with them once, hoping to snatch some berries for herself. She couldn’t. Nobody could. She asked if I would go sometime, to try and help since they wouldn’t let me use my sword on any demons on the front lines with the soldiers. ‘At least this way,’ she’d said to me, ‘You could help gather food and make sure we don’t get hit by them again!’_ _

__I didn’t want to, because that would mean Delin would be left alone. Emval, Fanar, Arathris, they still weren’t back and I had no clue why. Fanar was… not right in the head, I knew that much. That something with him was going on and I didn’t really expect him anymore. Emval said he’d be back soon, but he wasn’t. And Arathris, I don’t know if she’s alright at all. I just needed someone to make sure Delin was safe while I tried to find something._ _

__However, it was one midnight chat we had that stuck out._ _

__“Dria, we can’t just run off!” I hissed in a low voice. “What if the Lord’s forces move ahead without us? They won’t look, too! What about my brother? I don’t see any of my family here to watch him. The last time I said a word to one of them was weeks ago. _Weeks!_ ”_ _

__“He’ll be fine. It’s not like we’ll be gone very long. Just a couple of minutes is all it’ll take. Besides, I know a little bit about wild growing things to know what’s good. You just have to make sure we don’t get killed, with that sword of yours!” she retorted._ _

__“I barely know the first thing about actual swordsmanship. I was just drilled by my uncle in parrying when--Look, all I know is one move, alright? And there’s still the matter of my brother. Unlike you, I have to be someone’s mom right now!”_ _

__She had an okay point, but this wasn’t a great time to be arguing, especially when Delin was a sprint away. I had no doubt he’d try to listen in on what we were talking about. We really should have moved away before he ran over to me and began begging me to be taken to do this. But, Janedria had started to raise her voice, just loud enough for Delin to overhear and run towards me._ _

__He gave that enthusiastic, hopeful look of his. “Nym, can I go? I wanna go!” I sighed, glaring daggers at Janedria. She only returned a smug smile, meaning we’d be forced to go. I’d have to check and see if I had a spare dagger or another small weapon for Delin to use, in case we got attacked. After we get this over, I’m going to kill her for forcing me to do this because Delin heard._ _

__“Hold on, thor en’shu. I need to find a weapon for you so that you can keep yourself safe.” He nodded eagerly, and I jogged back to where his pouch was. There should have been a dagger in there. Uncle Fanar would stash them in travel sacks and pouches and sometimes even pockets in case we were stuck needing to use them. Unless I was an idiot and threw it out, back in Suramar._ _

__I proved myself wrong, as one of the many backup blades Fanar had was stashed in a pocket on the satchel. Pulling it from its safe little place, I examined the blade quickly as I had been taught. I ran a finger across the blade and tapped the tip of it a couple of times to make sure it wasn’t dulled. Since Janedria made sure he heard, I needed to make sure Delin wasn’t defenseless._ _

__The dagger wasn’t dull, but it wasn’t sharp, either. Lovely. My urge to strangle Janedria to death began to steadily increase as each minute went by. Delin was smiling ear-to-ear when I looked at him, and instead of tossing the knife like I might do with someone else, I strode forward and handed it to him, waiting for Janedria to lead us into the woods for food._ _

__She led us away with a wave of her hand, but instead of walking, she ran. After Suramar, I was tired of running, period. Delin darted after her like a squirrel full of that white stuff I’d seen one of the noblemen sniffing. I was forced to pick up at a jog to catch up with the other two. As we went on, though, Dria broke out into a sprint and so did Delin, jerking to the left and to the right and left and right and left and right and left._ _

__I didn’t know where we were when we finally stopped. But being in the woods made me think of the meetings with Myn’ra. I still hadn’t a single clue as to whether or not she was alive. I let my mind drift while Delin ran about with Dria as they… did something, I wasn’t completely sure at the moment._ _

__But then a shriek ripped through the air. Delin stopped. Dria stopped. Nochtuern’al was not on my back but in my hand, held out in front of me. Quiet. Quiet. More quiet. It wasn’t that good quiet, either. It was that kind of quiet that made you wonder if your little one was up to some trouble. (Yes, I referred to my brother as my little one.)_ _

__Both of them edged closer to me, Dria with her fists raised and Delin with his knife clutched to his chest._ _

__“You two go on ahead of me a bit. I’ll make sure you guys will be safe,” I reassured. Delin nodded and scooted in front of me, with Janedria close behind as she tried to make him feel at ease. They started to search the bushes for some kind of an edible berry to bring back for people._ _

__As they got back into their original nature, I relaxed a little bit and lowered my sword. Delin began to let a smile break across his face like I used to have when I was his age. Seeing this on him let me allow a smile to creep up onto my own face. It seemed this wasn’t so bad--_ _

__A howl. And something rushing out of the trees to my left and attaching to my chest, right above my heart. I screamed, loud enough to scare off some kind of wild animal--if they weren’t all driven away by the arrival of… this._ _

__Delin turned around, and I was on my knees, with tears running down my face and screams loud enough to nearly drown out my own thoughts. I felt like I could hardly breathe. My lungs were crying out for air while I wasted it all on my pain. My brother stood there and cowered, while Janedria ran back the way we came. Or, at least, the way I thought we’d came._ _

__Damn her. She’s a coward. And my vision was going and my hearing was getting worse and my mouth felt dry and my… my…_ _

__What was going on? I couldn’t remember. But there was a light I was seeing, and a very pretty lady holding her hands out towards me. Something wasn’t right though. It looked like she was trying to tell me something and she didn’t look happy. She started flailing her hands, but I saw no reason she should have been._ _

__It felt so nice, like a freshly-made bed after the linens had been washed. I even forgot that constant pain in my scarred leg that I always ignored. Still, I found it weird that the pain was still there. I wondered if it would be gone permanently… Permanent… Per-ma-nent._ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__“Ana serrar ande shari!” I roared at Janedria as she ran towards me. _My blade will find your heart._ A war cry I’d heard directed at so many demons now. _ _

__I have been awake for less than two hours. The moon shone bright overhead, bathing everything in a brilliant light. At least night was here. When I woke, I was told I’d been in a small coma for a week. I was only here because someone, presumably someone close to me, requested I stay here and not be forgotten and left to die._ _

__I had been asleep for a week. I have been awake for less than two hours. I have heard not a single mention of Delindor at all. I have had one mention of a purple-haired priestess. I have had no mention of a man with black streaks in his own violet hair, nor of a man with hair the color of the dusk._ _

__The only person who was here for me was Janedria. She is why this whole thing happened. She is why I have no mentions of my little brother. I was going to kill her. I was going to do that now._ _

__Fear spread immediately across her face as my hands went and wrapped around her throat. She kept backing up, backing up as I tried to choke the life from her stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid body! I wanted her dead. _Right now._ She led me to the outskirts of the host of kaldorei, and I toppled her onto the ground._ _

__I pinned her to the grass with my whole body while I slammed my weight through my hands and into her neck. She deserved to die. She killed Delin. She was a coward. She killed Delin by letting him die. “Nar…” I heard her rasp. “Nar please stop!”_ _

__“You deserve this. You killed Delin. YOU KILLED MY BROTHER!” I screeched. Hands were on my back, yanking me away from her. “GET OFF ME!” I got to watch her run away while I stood here with someone making sure she lived. She was a murderer._ _

__Hot breath in my ear. Adrenaline in my veins. The sight of Janedria running and hiding in the body of the main host. The only thing that mattered now was her death. Her lifeless body at my feet. Revenge for Delin. Delin. Delin. Delin._ _

__“Calm down, little Nymia. You may take her life another day.” Firm hands. Fanar’s hands. He was oddly calming and encouraging. I could not tell if this truly was him or not. But he was right. She’d get it later. Right now I needed to calm down and remember my brother. Already, I missed him._ _

__Before I knew it, I was crying. He handed me the satchel filled with Delin’s books--no, OUR books--and I found myself gasping and sobbing into it. Once again, I was not on my feet. I was sitting down and bawling because my little brother, who hadn’t even reached one thousand years of age, was now dead._ _

__He had a whole life ahead of him. He could have lived… but Janedria had to let him die._ _

__“He could have lived,” I sobbed through the satchel to Uncle Fanar. “He could have lived he could have lived he could have lived.”_ _

__I was right, he could have, and in a way, I blamed myself for this. If it weren’t for me relaxing so quickly after one little howl and his silly grin, he could have lived._ _

__He could have…_ _


	12. Delindor

He only stood by and watched, holding the dagger over his heart while that sweet and smiling girl ran away. And while his sister got the life sucked out of her by that hound-thing. He was useless and she was dying and he couldn’t do anything. Nymera, always making sure he was okay, he had this, he had that, he wasn’t in harm’s way. Now he couldn’t do any of that for her. 

Looking down at the dagger, he shakily raised it and turned his gaze in the direction of the hound. The screams had died down, and Nymera began to fall onto her knees, a smile gracing her face. Like she was seeing someone dear to her. “No! No, no, no, no, NO!” he screamed without realizing what he was about to do.

Delindor ran at the beast. He screamed. For himself, for his sister, for the people who didn’t join them when they ran to safety. The dagger found itself buried in the thing’s head. A low growling, and it removed the tentacle from his sister, who promptly fell to the ground unmoving. He wildly slashed at the beast, hoping to whack off those suckers at the end of its tentacle-things. 

Barely managing to fight it off, he did so. With a final stabbing of the blade into it’s head, the beast lay still. Like his sister. Delindor struggled to push the corpse off himself, but when he did, his first instinct was to run to his elder sister. 

He cast aside the dagger, sitting by his sister and shaking her body violently. “Nym! Nym! Wake up, wake up, wake up! Nym please!” he begged. Delin got no response. He hiccupped and shook her again and again. “Nym, what’ll Anta’nar say? What about Shal’nar Arathris!” 

Nothing. Then something. A snapping branch. He grasped around for the knife. After a moment, he found it, and darted off in the direction he thought he’d come in. But, it was the wrong direction. 

He ran and ran, hoping to escape whatever it was that had been after him while he focused on his sister. Or, rather, his sister’s corpse. He only hoped that he wasn’t being followed, and that they, whoever ‘they’ might be, would give his sister a proper burial. (Assuming, of course, ‘they’ were the good guys.)

Time went by so fast, he lost track of what day it was. His running led him into the dense forests of the kaldorei’s territory in their vast empire. He only hoped he would escape those… those _demons_ that killed his sister. He hoped that girl who ran was caught by them and killed. She was the one who indirectly killed his sister. But then again, so was he. 

He wasn’t fast enough. He never would be. Before Nymera had left to go join the sisterhood, she would try to drill him in some sword maneuvers, but, being so caught up in his books, he would rarely have the time. When he did practice with her, he was awful. He wanted to be like the heroes in his stories, but he was terrible with a blade. 

It never would stop him from trying, though. Nym knew that. He’d always practice with her--when he wasn’t ear-deep in a book.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The few nuts and berries he would find weren’t enough. He looked half-starved and like he was about to pass out. Like the image of his sister when she lived with their mother. He would have looked like this his whole childhood if he was still there, she would always tell him. Be glad you live with me and anta’nar, he would hear when he was smaller. 

His sister was an amazing storyteller. He always loved when she told him of how she and their uncle bravely swooped in with the help of Kelemval and save him. _I wanna be like you when I grow up!_ he remembered saying to her. It was these memories of Nymera that kept him going, kept him alive and not losing his mind. 

“Rondis! We can’t be gone much longer! Everyone is waiting for some food back home. The fishing we do won’t sustain us for long, not with news of death and destruction from Zin’Azshari. They already say the entirety of Suramar has been wiped out, too!” came a voice not far off. 

Delin gasped, too loud for his liking, and darted away to hide behind a tree. The dagger his sister had given him was once again clutched tightly to his chest while he waited to hear more of these voices. If they were going to kill him, he would at least try to fight before he was killed. But if they weren’t, who knows what would happen to him? Would he be tortured? Given to the demons? Sent on his way, wandering about the forest again and again? 

Shifting his foot forward so it wouldn’t fall asleep on him, he accidentally snapped a twig. Now, whoever it was would be sure they were not alone.

“Avindria! Hush! There is either someone or something here, and I do not intend to be surprised today. Search about to my left, and if you find something come over to me,” came a masculine voice from behind the tree. 

Delin froze. He waited, waited to die, and squeezed his eyes shut so he did not see whoever was here to finish him off. He didn’t trust that it was a well-meaning couple of kaldorei, for he thought it was illusions from his mind. All caused by his malnourished and dehydrated self. Nowadays, it seemed nothing and nobody could be trusted. Not even--

“Vindri! ‘Tis a boy. Come, quickly! He doesn’t look well,” came the voice again. Delin peeled open his eyes, but only barely. “Ishnu’alah, son. What is your name? My name is Garrondis Dewgather. Don’t be afraid, please.”

“I--” Delin started, only to be cut off.

“Garrondis, what’s he doing out here? Don’t talk to him, feed the poor child first!” the woman, called Vindri by the man, hissed. She immediately pulled food out of a small carry bag resting on her hip. It was a piece of bread and an apple. Delin’s eyes went wide, but he didn’t make a move, knowing to be patient for his food. His sister taught him that much, before she was killed.

She offered the food to him, which he took and began cramming down his mouth. It took him less than three minutes to swallow down the food he was handed. The woman pulled out a flask of water next, and Delin greedily sipped at it before realizing the couple might need it. 

He handed the flask back and wiped off his mouth. “I-I’m Delindor,” he started, which already earned a wince of pain from the two. “Delindor Silverblad--Silverleaf. Sorry.” He was quiet, scared, and the couple had to strain their ears to hear him. 

“I hope you would be fine with us calling you Delin--” Delin nodded at the woman, who continued, “That’s good, then. You’ve already met my mate. My name is Avindria Riverrun. We live in the fishing village nearby. If you would like, you may stay with us.” Delin nodded again. 

“If you don’t mind us asking, Delin. Why are you out here? Isn’t your family nearby?” Garrondis asked. 

At that, Delin quieted. Tears slipped down his face and he remained silent, burying his face in his knees, now raised to his chest. Garrondis whispered comforting words to him, his black hair, grown just past his shoulder, tickling Delin’s knees. The trousers he’d worn were ripped, and so his knees remained exposed. 

Garrondis and Avindria promised to take him in, let him stay there as long as he liked, even if it meant him living with them. Delin remained silent, but barely bobbed his head to confirm that he had heard them. 

They brought him to their home, located not too far from the ocean’s gentle waves. There, Delin would stay. _As long as he needed._


	13. Death All 'Round

He was dead. My brother was dead. Weeks had passed. So many weeks I couldn’t even tell you what day it was, but that my birthday was somewhere nearby. I can’t remember much, aside from constant moving and fights with the demons. I don’t want to go on with this stupid… _whatever_ anymore. Not when my brother was dead, my uncle lost and possibly being tortured, my godfather running about playing hero, and my mentor being Goddess knows where! 

I got a journal from Emval a few days ago. He’d brought it by me when we had our last skirmish with the demons, told me I could write down everything I wanted about the fights. I didn’t, though. I filled the first pages with desperate, silent prayers to the Goddess, begging for Delin to come back so I could hug him and tell him all about this book he hadn’t yet touched.

I filled the second group of pages with prayers for help to win against the demons, but those weren’t answered.

The third group with pleas for Fanar and Arathris and Emval to be okay, along with their child. 

Group four. Prayers for a way to win this. Prayers for someone to come by and offer hope. Prayers for ways to cope with losing Delin. Prayers for just about anything. Ideas, strategies, hidden passages into Zin’Azshari, something to write about. None of these prayers ever got answered. I’m lying again. One got answered. Ideas.

I’d an idea to lie about my age, fight the demons with all the grown soldiers. I doubt they’d believe me, though. I looked hardly older than a thousand-year-old. I was scrawny, looked like I could barely hold a blade, let alone support heavier-than-grief armor on me. I could try, though. Maybe join the priestesses on… something.

But all I did now was sit in the camp, move when they moved, slept, repeat. Sleep was the only time I ever did escape from what felt like a living hell. Still, never any sign of Tary. Eight hundred years. Eight hundred years without seeing her. Not once had she ever appeared to me since. Nothing could get her to appear to me. Fitful sleeps with dark dreams of death and fear and a ruined world. 

_No hope._ Those were the words I’d hear sometimes. _No hope._ Followed by the occasional ‘ _You shall kneel_ ,’ or something like that. I didn’t care. Whatever it happened to be, it was so very right. I had no hope. I didn’t even know if we’d make it through. Hundreds--no, it seems more like thousands at this point--are dead and more would be dying. These demons were strong. 

Then someone shaking me. I looked up, met with Arathris’s face in mine. She smiled at me, but I don’t know why. Like myself, her clothing was tattered and filthy, even for a priestess. Unlike me, the child she carried bulged out, like her stomach was ready to split open at any second. That smile stayed on her face, and I stared back with dead eyes. My looked wiped the reassuring one off of her lips. 

“What’s wrong, Nymera?” she asked me. Pity was in her eyes. But she’d said my name, which I’d not heard from anyone in forever. Not even Emval said it to me. He just called me “kid” and “short stuff” and a variety of other nicknames I hated. I’m not a child, I’m not short, but I had no way to stop him from doing it. 

Maybe I should just go by Taylnar. For Uncle Fanar and Tary. Tary, who I could not begin to guess at what she’s currently doing, her being so mysterious. And Fanar, who I could only guess at being held somewhere against his will by Lithmyr and being forced to tell him some sort of “vital information” or something. Yes, maybe I should go by Taylnar. Nar, for short. Nar, for whoever became my friend. And whoever I could trust enough could know my real name. But Nar. For a liar.

Arathris gently nudged me again, trying to get my attention. She got it, and I looked up. “Huh? Oh. I’m just tired and bored. I have nothing to do.” Arathris helped me stand up, where she led me over to where she’d been before. I didn’t pay attention to my surroundings at all, aside from my mentor and where she happened to be going.

Before long, I ended up bumping into her and looking up to see why we stopped. I instinctively pulled my hand up to grab at Nochtuern’al. I forgot Janedria lost it in the woods. With… with Delin. I hestiated, before placing my hand back at my side and holding onto the satchel full of books at my side. At least I still had something from my family. 

When I stopped distracting myself, Arathris guided me to a seat and had me sit down, but I couldn’t begin to guess why. My mentor took a spot by me, and while she sat that I began to rummage through the satchel, hoping Fanar had placed at least a stiletto in there. At this point, anything sharp would be enough comfort for me. 

“So,” I started, still rummaging about, “Why am I over here?” I glanced over to see her smirking, though I turned away because I didn’t like the looks of it.

I glanced back again and saw her leaning over and looking for something, which I hoped to be a weapon. “Oh, you’ll just have to wait and see, little Nymia. I have a feeling you’ll like it. For now, pull out a book and read it while we wait.” I eyed my mentor suspiciously, hesitating before I reached in and pulled out a book on the Tale of the Forest Lord, Cenarius. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I had dozed off from reading. I tired more easily after Delin’s death. The only thing I really wanted to do right now was to find Janedria and hurt her. I’m awful, I just wanted her death, I could barely talk to my mentor, I lost my weapon. Arathris was worried, I could tell. Fanar had taught me a little bit on how to read people, said if I kept it up I’d just keep getting better.

Looking over, I saw Arathris still seated by me. She started mumbling things, and kept it up. Not once did she bother to glance over at me and see if I were listening, or doing something. I stood up quietly, since she paid me no mind, and tiptoed up towards the main host. Where the commanders were. Where the demons attacked. 

I wanted to fight. I wanted to die, to be back with my brother. There wasn’t a point in this if Delin couldn’t be here with me. If he died, I would too. He is my world and he deserved more. But my world is not here. My world died, and so would I. 

I glanced back, seeing Arathris still seated where I’d been at, possibly still mumbling about something. Thank the Goddess she hadn’t noticed I’d left. My pace picked up straight into a jog as I made a beeline for the main body. I liked being among the troops. They felt safe, exciting. I could only hope to fight with them. They’d never let me, though.

As I kept going, an alarm sounded. High, loud. Fear. Adrenaline. I turned, ran back and hoped only to find Arathris, Emval, Fanar, just someone I knew who could get me something to defend myself with. My fists wouldn’t do. I’m too weak. The only thing in my sight, tired soldiers struggling to go on from all the constant fighting. 

One mistook me for someone else and threw a weapon at my feet. I didn’t bother to check. I looked down at the sword. Around a four-or-six-inch handle, big enough for me to hold with a single hand. The crossguard on it looked somewhere between three or five inches. The blade, though? Long. Not Nochtuern’al long, shorter than that but still about the length of my arm. 

This had to be what Fanar would’ve called a short-sword. He taught me too much in my downtime. He told me this would be a good weapon to defend yourself against Lithmyr with, if his blade wasn’t available at the moment. And me, being so smart, didn’t bother to find Nochtuern’al, so now I was stuck with someone else’s unfamiliar weapon. 

I whipped my head to both sides, making sure nobody saw a fifteen hundred year old kid with a blade as long as her entire arm. Nobody paid me mind, again, which allowed me to run around and steal a small leather cap to throw over my head. This is why you didn’t leave me unsupervised. I’d get up to things. 

“Demons!” someone shrieked. 

“Protect the children!” came another voice.

Soon enough, we were under siege by, you guessed it! Demons. Felhounds and doomguard and a myriad of other horrid-looking things. Most towered over even the tallest of us, and the host could only hope to win against this legion of demons. 

I saw the felhounds rushing past and causing chaos while the soldiers got distracted by the large, sweeping axes of the doomguard. We were going to lose ground, weren’t we? We’d gotten so far, from what I remember. We were alive, we were fighting, we could win, couldn’t we? 

Then, I had no clue what possessed me to run towards the hounds. Their suckers found hosts to latch onto, to suck the life out for them to multiply into even more of themselves. I ran straight up to one, my blade extended in the most amatuer way possible. It looked up as it finished draining one of the soldiers, snarling at me with tentacle-suckers extended. I was frozen in place.

Usually, Fanar’s advice would pop into mind, but right now his voice did not, and I had not a single clue as to what to do. I could only watch as it split into another hound. The new one ran off to find another victim, and this lone one now darted at me, sucker attaching to my lovely leg scar.

Screaming. More screaming covered by screaming. That screaming covered by war cries and rallies and yells and shrieks for vengeance. All muddied together to create a cacophony of unpleasant sounds. The only thing in my ears was of my own cries of pain. 

My vision faded some, my hearing dulling and my smell leaving me so I could smell nor hear much at all. Was this what dying felt like? Was this what Delin felt when he had the life drained from him? Would Janedria ever feel this? No. No, because I got caught and died too early to feed her to the hounds. 

Weak arms raised as I brought this sword down on one tentacle, then the other. Wobbly legs as I stood and tried to run to help. Sweating hands gripping too tightly onto the blade as I finished some already injured beasts. A foolish kid playing an adult’s game of war. Grown men fighting to defend everything we held sacred and close to our hearts. People dying and soon I would too, if I kept stumbling about like a buffoon.

A strong, soft hand closed around my arm and pulled me away from the chaos. I looked up and saw Arathris, my mentor and mother-figure here to save me. I’m an idiot, and I bet she had to be thinking the same thing as she ripped the cap and blade off my person. My body shook from the fear of nearly dying before I could have enough revenge for my brother.

“Nymia! What were you doing?” she asked me. “Come along, I know someone who will keep you out of this and safe!” She turned, began dragging me in the opposite way, away from the fighting. The slashing of skin and clanging of blades and screams of agony faded from my ears. I began to resist her pull, and she stopped, turning to glare down at me.

“I don’t _want_ to go. I need to have more of them dead, for my brother!” I insisted. I got met with an even harsher glare.

“Come. With. Me. Those things, as you call them, will keep you safe!” she retorted. My hopes fell, and I pulled myself from her grasp and sped off to where she’d left that shortsword. I kept dashing to it, reminding myself it called to me. It is my blade now. It is my defense. It would keep me safe. I crashed into the ground and grasped the handle again, pushing myself to my wobbling knees and waiting for her to come after me.

Arathris arrived soon, her staff drawn and ready to be used. “Come. They promised my child and I a haven to live in, so it wouldn’t have to endure this! Trust me, Nymia.” She had a pleading look on her face, and I shook my head no once more. The staff came down on me, and I backed up and nearly tripped over myself.

I raised the blade high to try and deflect the staff again, barely managing to do so. I should have practiced more. I should have found her sooner, so she’d not have fallen into whatever those demons were doing to her brain. I should have saved Delin I should have practiced more I should have found Emval to warn him I should have killed Lithmyr I should have I should have I should have.

The staff came down again, and once more I deflected it with the small blade in my hands. After that blow, I backed up, backed up, backed up, then held it in front of my stomach. I rushed her, caught her off guard. My eyes were closed. I stopped running when I felt her hand on my shoulder.

She gasped softly, causing me to look up at her. Blood stained her robes, the light behind her eyes dimming. Her eyes always lit up like that, when she’d insist on these things. Her mouth had fallen open, and she croaked out something inaudible. 

“You… would have… been… been safe,” she managed. I slid the blade out, dropped it from my grasp into the patch of dirt beside her fallen body. When I looked around, the fighting had stopped. Priestesses ran about now, tending to the wounded. I sat down, though. I didn’t bother to go up and ask to help with their jobs.

I sat by my adoptive mother’s body for Goddess knows how long. If She loved everyone, why did She allow us to die? Was it all part of Her doing that caused this? Did She even exist, if She did nothing to help us? I sat thinking these things and doubting what I’d been taught. I sat and cried, muffling the gasps and ragged breaths in my hands.

When a priestess came to ask what happened, I lied. “Demons,” I said. “Demons got her.” I told them she died to keep me safe. They all believed it. I’m a liar. I’m a liar. I’m a liar. I deserved to die. I deserved to not give Delin revenge. I only wanted to die.


	14. "Surprise, Bitch"

The blade. The blade is the only thing that mattered. I would be safe with it. Safe. People wouldn’t die as much if only they’d let me fight. Fight. Fight. I should be dead on that field, dead with all the others who dared to fight against the machine they called the Legion. I should be _dead_. But oh, the children’s lives mattered. Every so-called kid who lived through this isn’t a child anymore. Just getting this far meant you were already old.

So much death…. So little hope. I only wanted to know some answers. Why is it, if the Goddess loves us all, she lets us all die so quickly and so suddenly? What did we do to deserve this? Anyone, anyone at all. I don’t even mean myself in general. Nothing should be like this.

That scar on my leg throbbed again. Arathris--No. Don’t even think about her. You filthy murderer. You killed her. Never even think of that name again otherwise I’ll have to relive that. Why am I telling myself this? I’d been told that wound would never properly heal, the pain would never go away. She hadn’t any reason to get involved, and she had been the one to tell me that. Now I could only look at that scar and remember her. Remember killing her like a filthy animal would.

But I am one. I need to quit lying. It’s been nothing but lie after lie after lie after lie. I hate myself for them. I lie too much. I deserve to be hanged or slaughtered by the demons for it. I didn’t deserve an honorable death. I only deserved a cowardly one. Yes, “Here lies Nymera, killed for murdering those closest to her, death by being chased down by felhounds.” That would be my fate. I’d be fine with that. It’s the only thing I knew I deserved. 

Wait. 

What about Myn’ra? What about her and her family? What’d she do if I were counted among the dead? You’re a fool, Nymera. The biggest fool there is. It’s not like she’d care. You knew her for, what? A couple hundred years? Friendships faded over time. Your dead body would just be another faded memory. Perhaps, even, not even a memory? Just something there in the back of her mind?

_But were you friends? Or something else?_ came that little voice in my head. I shook away those thoughts, those… doubts. To veer away from that, I should distract myself. Maybe go find Kelemval. Maybe tell him about what happened; about how you almost killed a girl, killed his mate, let Delin die. 

At Delin I teared up. He didn’t deserve that. He only deserved a happy life in Suramar with Anta’nar. The boy could’ve had the world. I could’ve given it to him. But I didn’t. I let him die and then I almost killed someone and then I did kill someone and Delin shouldn’t be dead and neither should anyone else why did you let your brother die he could have had the world he could have had the world **HE COULD. HAVE. HAD. IT!**

No. No no no no no no no no no. Go look for Emval. Everything’s settled down. Some battles have been fought. I think a bigger demon thing showed up but I don’t know. I can’t keep track of time. Too much downtime to think about all this. 

“Where’s my godchild, anyways? Has _anyone_ seen her?” someone growled.

“En’shu, en’shu! There are too many refugees to tell which one she is. You could be describing any one of them! Do you know how many of the children are scarred up--inside and out--after all that has gone on?” reasoned another. The reasoner called that man brother. ‘Brother.’ Too bad I’ll never use that term again. Mine’s… 

“Not every child has a damned burn on their leg! I could go on and on and make a _**list**_ about her appearance! I’d bet you more money than my family even owned that you’d find a child matching her description!” The first man kept raising his voice. A scar on the leg, specifically a burn. I listened in.

The more I heard, the more I realized the man to be Emval. He lived. He. Lived. I thought nobody would. I’ve not seen Fanar in forever, yet I never suspected my godfather to live throughout this whole chaotic event. But yet, I didn’t speak up. I kept quiet.

They kept fighting. If I kept quiet, I’d hear more (possibly) about what had been going on while I zoned out on a day-to-day basis. I hated daylight, but yet we moved in it. And the host bothered to use their magi in it. Why not simply allow them to gain up power and release hell on the opposers when we came into contact with them. But now isn’t the time for strategizing.

“Short purple hair. Silver eyes. Wiry build. Has a weapon with her. Brand-burn scar on left leg? You couldn’t possibly spot someone like that at all among refugees?” Emval spat.

I turned around and ran. I’d not put up with anything like that anymore. Emval meant to protect me. “Protect.” Like you could do that for anyone now, in this time. I didn’t want to be sheltered. I wanted to fight and die. I wanted to fight and die and bleed and sweat. I’m not some dainty noblewoman destined to mate with some high-ranking fellow in the Court. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The host marched again at dusk. I got to stand among them. We’re doing nothing but advancing and advancing. I could see Hyjal in the distance. If we were there faster we could easily assault Zin’Azshari and those demons or whatever. 

Maybe Emval would be amongst the Moon Guard. He could do magic. He excelled at it. He’d be the only one worth listening to up there. Not that strange, amber-eyed, headstrong idiot. Whatever his name is, I hope he listens to Emval’s guidance. Not because he’s older, but because twelve mages isn’t something to go off when fighting things that will literally use you as as a ragdoll toy. 

As we marched on, I just wondered how much time had passed, what month it was, how much longer until we won this thing and could be done with it. I could check now. It’s not like the soldiers would care that the tiny kid trailing them had run off. I turned, walking back into the refugees and off-duty soldiers following a few yards or more behind. 

There stood a guard nearby, sword drawn as he pointed it at a pathetic looking wretch garbed in Highborne-esque clothing. All of it together looked like you just walked out of the Sun and Well of Eternity merged into one. I had to blink a couple times to simply look at them normally.

“No, as I have said before Viersin. We’ve nothing to suit your needs. If you want to be fed grapes on a silk recliner with your feet up on an ottoman. Now quit threatening to have my head. We are foot soldiers and refugees trying to save the Queen. If you’ll excuse me…” the guard growled, sheathing his blade and striding off.

He saw me, turning straight into my path. The Highborne fellow, Viersin, kept following him and made a single groan to get his attention. The guard placed his hand on his weapon and turned on his heel, glaring at the Highborne to walk off and say nothing at all. 

Viersin scurried off somewhere else, thinking it best to seek luxury items from someone else as the host moved on towards the mountains and Zin’Azshari. I smirked as he ran off like some sort of beggar on the city streets. Funny. This war reduced everyone to nothing at all. Well, not like half of us were nothing before this happened. 

“Ah, alright. Now that that second of Tir’nael is gone, I can see what you’re doing over here, dorei. I am… well, that’s not really important. But please, go ahead,” the guard said, offering up a weak, joyless smile. 

I took a breath, trying to build up the courage to ask my question. When he mentioned Grandfather, it got harder to ask, so it took me a few moments. “I… well, was wondering. How long have we been going on? How long has it been since we left Suramar, s-sir?” 

The guard gave me a pitiful look and shrugged. I thanked him anyways and walked off. I suspected he wouldn’t know. Not like anyone would keep track of time in this place. Too many preoccupied with the war, the demons, and being “heroes of the peoples” as they go to save the Queen. Why should we? She hasn’t done anything for us. I continued on my search.

This would take a forever. 

“Nar! Nar!” someone called. Who’s doing that? I glanced around, spotting nobody. “Nar, you fool, look to your left!” I didn’t. I kept going about my business in hopes to find someone who knew the date. Or, well, anything similar to it. 

“Nar, just look over here, would you?” 

I sighed, lazily turning to look behind myself to see-- 

“Myn?”

She grinned at me. “Surprise, bitch.”


	15. Return

“You’re alive…” 

I couldn’t believe it. Someone actually lived. Someone I know, who didn’t try keeping me out of the way, is walking and talking and completely alive and okay. It’d be better if everyone could be here. I had to blink away tears before I spilled again, otherwise I wouldn’t be ready to do whatever we needed to do when we were stuck fighting demons again.

“Myn, how much time has passed? What’s gone on? I’ve been, um, busy and couldn’t keep track,” I insisted. I needed to know. I could find out what day it is, what month, when the last group attacked.

“Dragons showed up.. It’s a day is all I know. But we’ve not seen demons for almost a week, and that’s sure to change soon.” Dragons showing up? Here? Why would giants show up to watch some ants move around? That makes no sense. 

But… dragons. A dragon. Many dragons. Flights. I don’t know. When did dragons involve themselves with us? I thought they didn’t exist. I thought dragons were stories--Well, you thought the Twins were stories but Lithmyr proved you wronger than wrong. It seems like every single storybook thing is popping out. What’s next? Cenarius the Forest Lord?

“You want me to bring you to someone who can explain this?” she asked. I nodded once. One piece of information, and I already can’t process it. But now I’m wondering what color this dragon is. Maybe one of the blue ones? 

I followed Myn because I hoped someone really could explain just why the fel myths are popping out of stories and into the real world. I have to be dreaming. Please, can I wake up back home and see that this really is just a bad dream. I sincerely hope this is a dream. It has to be, and Delin and Arathris and her child and Fanar and Emval and everyone else is completely fine and we’re all at home and laughing like we always do. 

Delin’s fine. Arathris is fine. Emval is fine. Fanar’s at the markets. Myn and I are just in the woods like we normally are when I’m not at the Temple. Fanar’s going to scold me when I come back and say I shouldn’t be traipsing through the woods when I could be practicing my sword fighting with Delin and him. 

“What have you been doing that’s kept you from noticing a dragon burning demons?” Myn asked, which pulled me out of my thoughts. Oh no. Now I have to think of an excuse. I can’t say I nearly killed--

“I nearly killed someone and almost died.” Or I can blurt that out. That works, too. Good luck patching up _that_ breach in the boat. And now I’m being treated with silence. Great way, Nar, to go and simply say something that should be unspeakable in the middle of a refugee-slash-war camp.  
“You _what_?” she hissed, stopping in her tracks. Oh, look at what you did. “Explain. Now. Because why? number one, and how? number two.” 

“Remember my brother? He’s dead. I tried to repay the person who killed him. Felhounds happened, too. My mentor tried killing me, so you can guess what happened there. And you know what? I don’t regret it. I wanted to let those felhounds get me,” I spat. I shut my mouth. I sounded so bitter, so angry and foolish. 

_You just lashed out at your friend, idiot!_

_Not like she’d remain with you after that._

_It’s no surprise that everyone you love is either gone or dead, now. Because you kept doing stupid bull like what you just did._

There came those doubts and whispers again. I didn’t even bother to push them away at this point, since I know they’re right. I could only grit my teeth and clench my fists against what I expected to be backlash from Myn. This is all my fault, isn’t it?

This is your fault this is your fault this is your fault. You caused this. You lashed out. You said the wrong things. Like you always do. This is why you can’t ever have a steady friendship with others outside of the dead ones. You hurt them. This is why. You hurt them and never learned from it. 

“Nar, you really shouldn’t hold that all in. That’s not good for you. You could be hurting yourself somehow if you keep it up. Now c’mon, I’m going to at least try and help you out” she sighed, moving on. 

_Yes, you could help by planting a blade through my heart._

I followed on like some sort of a loyal dog wanting treats from its owner. I’m surprised. She didn’t lash out. I felt bad after I had unleashed some anger on her. She shouldn’t have gotten that, only Lithmyr should have. After all, he’s the only one who deserved anything bad during this entire mess.

As we moved on, I heard voices getting closer. I couldn’t make them out first, but when I did, they sounded not at all like the soldiers speaking in their stiff and formal manners like Selindil and Mordris would to guests who weren’t Lithmyr or Tir’nael.

“This isn’t child’s play anymore! We’re almost at the capital where all of those demons keep coming from. We will win this war.”

“Tauren and Earthen and Furbolgs… how are they all united and not trying to kill one another?”  
Oh, I really have missed quite a bit. _And this, Nar,_ I thought, _Is why we don’t go off into an eternally spaced out, zombie-like train of thought and tune out literally everything else!_ Tauren, Earthen, Furbolgs, dragons. What next? Lithmyr is suddenly a hero who actually has Fanar and mine’s best interests at heart? Ha, that’d be a sight.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, Fanarol isn’t on our side!” Fanar? My eyes widened and I looked over at Myn, who still seemed to be moving forward.

“Myn. Myn! I’ve gotta go grab something real quick, I think I left my dagger somewhere. I’ll be right back, I swear!” I called, turning on my heel before she even tried to protest. Truthfully, my dagger is most likely still laying in the woods with--No, no, no! I’m not supposed to think about that, I’m not supposed to ever bring that up, not until I can handle it. 

_So never_.

I ran out a distance from the main host, but still to where I could see them. Getting lost out here would not be… very ideal. Perhaps I could find Viersin out this way, trudging along with us in hopes of getting his lavish lifestyle back. He’d probably be able to explain the entire “family plotting” thing to me. But even still, that’s only a slight chance.

I had enough questions as it is, and one of them is to ask about why he’d been begging to that officer who threatened to have his head. Now, if only finding him out here would be quick and easy like finding Emval had been. 

Footsteps behind me. They kept up a steady pace, speeding up here or there, but otherwise no other sound could be heard. I didn’t like this. When someone or something is moving at me and I can’t see it, I drew my--I don’t have the blade. I don’t have it. I lost it. It got lost along with your brother back in those Goddess-forsaken woods. 

Heavy breathing. So they’ve either been running for a while or they have terrible cardio skills and don’t know how to breathe during a run. This didn’t bode well. The one time I actually need my weapon and I remember I lost it. It’s not anywhere nearby. It’s lost and somewhere halfway between the hills of Urae and Suramar. 

“Nymia! NYMIA! Help me help me help me! He’s watching and I can’t risk being caught again. He’s watching. **He. Is. Watching!** Don’t run. Quit running. He finds you that way. When you run he catches you off-guard and steals your mind. You won’t even **be** you!” a familiar voice screamed.

Something deep inside of me told me to turn around and look. I did. And it’s him. It’s him. It’s him. I should be running. I should be running away and screaming due to sheer terror. He shouldn’t even be here. He should have been hidden away somewhere and plotting with Tir’nael, or whatever it is they did. 

That scar on his face is even more pronounced. Another added one had been slashed onto his face in the meantime, too. A deep one that more than likely impaired his vision in his right eye. 

“Nymia… the mark. The mark! Tary had it and so did her forebearers before her! The blessed ones, they all have some kind of a mark and it makes you a target for **_him_**! Your hand, it’s been covered up by Father’s magicks! Watch your hand whenever you have time.” Lithmyr. He kept rambling. I saw him start to get angry. When he’s angry, those things happen and I had been rooted in place due to my fear. 

He extended his hands and clamped them down onto my shoulders. Lithmyr began to vigorously shake me around like I was some kind of ragdoll. He would do something to me soon. He’d do it and laugh and brag about it later on to whomever would even dare to listen to his insane ramblings. What mark? What “blessed ones”? Why is he giving me more questions about these things? 

“LISTEN TO ME! LISTEN TO ME AND SAVE YOURSELF, YOU DAMNED MORON! HE’S WATCHING YOU AND HE WON’T HESITATE TO GRAB YOU UP LIKE HE DID FANAROL,” he shrieked in a high-pitched voice. One hand came up in the air, flying down at me. I couldn’t do anything to him, not without the blade. Not without Nochtuern’al. 

He froze. His screaming stopped. His arms fell back to his sides. A glare stretched across his ugly face as he gazed at whoever came up behind me--again. What is it with people and sneaking up on me whenever I’m unaware? 

Lithmyr spun on his heel and sprinted off in the other direction. I fell onto the ground and sat there, watching him until my eyes burned from not blinking. Something rose in my throat. A sob, I came to realize. I tried holding it in but it escaped. 

That person still stood behind me. I didn’t bother looking back to see who saved me more trouble with Lithmyr. 

“Nar… who was that?” Myn. I shook my head. I couldn’t talk right now, not after I saw the one who gave me my awful dreams and daymares still alive and moving about. “The host is only some yards ahead. They got held up by more demons and the dead needing a quick burial. We might be here for a little bit.”

I nodded. Let the daymares commence.


	16. The Great Battle

I slept so little that night. The only thing nearby that stayed with my from my past happened to be that satchel of books and Delin’s clothes and Myn. I just. Wanted. Rest. I wanted a break. Sleeping wouldn’t do much because it’s only temporary. Why is everything temporary? It seems like nice things don’t even exist here.

Maybe after this is over, I could build something for myself. Maybe… 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zin’Azshari. It’s so close. I never got to visit the capital. The lights would’ve shone out for so many miles, I’d been told. But not in a war. In a war, it is dark. It is dark and dreary and ugly in its own special way. Dark and dreary and ugly and cold to the sight. A home for demons, not for the peoples of our empire. 

Zin’Azshari is the seat of the empire. It is supposed to represent the glory of our peoples and our monarch, our icon, our beloved leader. But not now. Now it is only something to lay siege to, to free our queen and our peoples from the tyrannical parade of demons that still keeps on coming. Even after a sorcerer went in and never came out. 

Zin’Azshari. A beacon.

Zin’Azshari. The seat of power.

Zin’Azshari. Zin’Azshari. Zin’Azshari.

“Tary, why does this stuff happen? Why would the Goddess allow this? Isn’t She supposed to aid in this, prevent it?” I asked, spinning around to face her. I’ve seen this exact place too many times to know I’m not awake. Too calm, too quiet, and we stood right outside of the gates of it in this… this dreamscape.

Pain glimmered in her eyes. She probably remained one of Elune’s faithful elite, whatever they called themselves. Devotees, acolytes, something. I remained unphased. I had questions and I wanted answers to all of the ones that swam around in my mind and escaped through my mouth. So what if they were harsh? Maybe I could try and bring Delin back with those same answers. 

“You’ve read _Rauv’Dris Tvaelin_. You should know. She can’t directly aid us, not unless something serious enough calls Her attention to it. Nymia--”

“ _Don’t call me that!_ I want my answers! This hell took my family away from me! I lost my sword, I lost my mentor, I lost my anta’nar, I lost Delin! I want them back,” I spat. “And I want to know about you and Lithmyr and why he keeps on bothering me!” 

“We were… once involved. I wish I could elaborate more on that, and I suppose you’re wondering about the mark, what Lith kept rambling on about.” I nodded, waiting for her to elaborate on what she mean by the mark. She owed me these explanations and I could use them to save my family, hopefully.

Things began getting blurry as Tary opened her mouth. No, no, no! I can’t be waking up, not when I’m about to get what I need to know. Why am I waking up? Why?! I won’t wake up, not until I get what I came for so I can actually do something! I need these! Nothing matters but the answers, no, not anymore. Just the answers! 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No, no! AAAAGH!” Eyes turned. Even though some others in pain screamed, most of the eyes of the refugees turned to me. Too much anger. _You’re turning into Lith._ I needed to let it out. Maybe demon hunting, but we’d get lots of that as soon as we reached Zin’Azshari, as soon as we were able to kill them all.

I had to find Myn, though. She’s got to be safe before I end up doing something… undesirable. I don’t know what possessed me to make sure she of all people stayed unharmed and safe, but she just had to be. It’s Delin all over again. But maybe this time they’d live.

There were so many people nearby. I also hoped to mark down how close to being over this siege is. It should just wrap itself up. Too much shit is already going on, and most everyone is starving and in dire need of rest. Ravencrest is dead. Most likely his advisor is, as well. It’s awful to think or to even say, but I hope he is. 

But yet still, I hope he isn’t. Too many are dead and dying. More priestesses wouldn’t solve that. Only the war’s end would. Or, even, never having this war get caused. Right now I could be in the temple at Suramar, training with my mentor and going on to actually **do** something. But no. This war had to happen. 

“We’re so close to the city! But that could overhead…”

“As soon as this is over, I’m going to sleep for a thousand years. This is all foolish!”

“My sword is bloody and I want it bloodier, dammit.”

Maneuvering through the crowd of peoples complaining proved difficult. With the adults shoving about and trying to move ahead of other while small children clung desperately to their parents and the orphans milling around aimlessly, any thoughts of getting up front of the crowd would be smashed. It seemed right now that everyone mingled with everyone, while some sights of a shaggy mane deterred me from ever going and shoving through everyone. Possibly a tauren. They would break a grown elf in half, I’ve been told. 

I moved back a little. When I had turned, I caught sight of someone clad in armor of the Sisterhood while riding a white saber cat. No stripes on it. If there were stripes, though, they were too light to be visible unless up close. Some armor on the cat, to protect it from wounds. Smart. 

Rushing forward, I began to call out. “Priestess, sister!” She halted, seeming to have heard me. Though, most likely, with the constant chatter and angry chants coupled with many mumblers, she saw me approaching her and slowed enough to speak.

“That would be High Priestess to you, dorei,” she hissed. A cold glare spread across the wom--High Priestess’ face. I came to my senses, bowing low.

“Apologies, High Priestess. Forgive me. I only meant to ask when it is we should be over with this… war. How much longer do you suspect, My Lady?” I remained in the low bow ‘til instructed otherwise. Even though I had been constantly beat on when with Selindil, I got instructed on what to do when it came to those bearing rank. 

“If we can see the city, we are very close. The young Stormrage, Malfurion, has only just returned from dealing with something to do with one of the dragons. I hope to press the assault on the city, though he thinks it best to bide our time. Move on ahead, dorei, so I may attend to my duties.” 

She sped off. I raised myself to my normal height again, glaring at the woman on her snowy white cat. The woman didn’t even give me a straight answer. And who in the name of the Goddess is Malfurion? I get, once again, more questions! So useful! Now, let’s see if I can answer the other question: Where is Myn?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cenarius is real. Ursoc. Ursol. Aviana. Agamaggan. Malorne. Everything is real isn’t it? Like that part about Tor’landa’s dragonmark… and the Red Queen gifting her a dragon to ride into battle and be her ally. But… this means someone rallied the demigods. And follow a mere kaldorei into a war that could ultimately kill them. 

But we all charged as one. Every single person who could or dared to take up a blade did, myself among them. The screams of glory echoed in my ears. Everyone around me would most likely be going to their deaths, yet they screamed and whooped. Refugees in the back cheered as they stood from the main damage, hoping, maybe, that this time we could do it. 

So many of the Legion stood against us. If one looked up, they’d see the Bird Mistress leading a great deal of her enormous flock against the bats and doomguard that tried to blot out the starlight. Yet, it still managed to be beautiful. Dryads, ancients, tortoises, boar, and so many other of our world’s primal, wild, great forces rose to fight against a common threat. This had to be a storybook. I’m at Fanar’s, reading one of the tales. I have to be. This is impossible. And Delin is with me, afterwards reenacting what went on and pretending to be the great hero in it. 

It is beautiful. 

It is cacophonous. 

It is terrifying. 

It is immediately bloody. 

We struck the force. We struck and fought and blade hissed and clanged against blade, flesh, armor, hides. The corpses of all littered the field and as I looked ahead, I saw a woman with hair the same shade as mine, clad in some glorious armor with a blade blue as enchanted ice in one hand, a bow in the other. Her hair braided, she didn’t even bother to see what hit her and what didn’t. She hacked and slashed and killed anything not of our forces. 

I know her. I have heard her name before. The blade I know as well. Both are familiar. One is from a story, I know. One that now has to be true. Jai’alator. Only those of Moonblade blood wield it. Just as only those of Moonblade blood wield Ellemayne, the twin to Jai’alator. The Reaver and the Noble Blade of Elune. A pair. A duo. A symbol. 

Pride swelled in me and I darted about, using the normal shortsword I’d found when I had read of the scared child slaying the corrupted priestess. Felhound, felguard, everything looked the same. The felguard I slashed at. Parts of their legs remained unprotected. I used this to my advantage. It hindered them.

Soldiers brought them down. A hound snuck up behind a man no older than Fanar. I rushed, screaming my lungs out and drove the blade into its skull, almost to the hilt. I came to my senses, remembering that this would hinder me as well, not only the enemy. It would prove harder to remove the blade and leave me open to a counterattack. 

My arms ached as I removed the now grime-coated blade. The man looked back and grinned at me, waving his arm in a wide arc, a motion to join him. I grinned and ran up with him, and we stood together as a duo, hacking and slashing from me coupled with his skill and know-how on the demons.

“Who are you, young one!” he screamed, barely heard over the screams of pain and death all around. 

“Taylnar! Call me Nar! And your name, sir?” I screeched back.

“Wyhramis Dusksteel! Son of Viersin Silverblade, now only a simple soldier in this damned war!” A relative. Wyhramis. “Named for my great house’s founder and leader, Whiyarmir!” Whiyarmir Silverblade. The one who made that damned dagger--almost a shortsword, really--from whence our house got its name. And I have an ally. 

“I greet you, en’shu! May we live long, yeah…?” I trailed off, and everyone stopped where they were. All watched, rooted in place, as we watched the last of the great demigods fall. 

Aviana, dead on the earth surrounded by the fallen hounds and guard and bats of the Legion. Ursoc and Ursol, buried under heaping mound of demons piled to the sky, it seemed. Agamaggan, with guard impaled on the spikes that acted as his armor, dead on his side. Cenarius lay, still breathing, but it seemed only barely, along with the others. Only Malorne now stood, striding towards a great demonic man that stood, center field.

Malorne charged. It seemed so quick to me, as first they were locked in a deadly combat, the man-thing’s hands wrapped around whatever he could grab of the White Stag. Horns stabbed into the chest of it as the hooves of both dug into dirt and grass and small bits of rock, sending great indents into the land. 

Then, it seemed to be over. His horns, grasped so tightly by the demon as he got pulled into a headlock. 

And his neck was snapped.


	17. Zin'Azshari

One single scream rang out against the silence. I looked over, doubting not that many other did the same. Wyhramis, I noted, followed suit. Him being the only one I could see, that added to why I name only him. A man on a hilltop, hair green as the moss on trees. Leather jerkin and all other garments of leather. This must have been Malfurion. 

He cried out in so much pain. He must have known the Forest Lord, though in a more personal bond than many would ever dare to create. I felt bad for him. I knew what it’s like to lose someone and almost lose another person. Over and over again. If I had enough courage to go over there and comfort him, I would have. 

The demon lord, he let an awful smirk cross his face. He turned in a sweeping, dramatic gesture and exited the playing field. Filth. Some day, we would kill him. All those who survived the current slaughterfest, that is. 

Buzzing and murmurs broke out amongst the peoples. I turned and looked up at my cousin, sparking conversation. “Wyhramis…” I started, before he cut me off and pointed to my right collarbone. My brow furrowed as I looked down, seeing nothing of interest but a threadbare shirt barely holding together. Thankfully, bandages were underneath. Bloodstained, but bandages to cover.

“I mean no disrespect, but… hold out your hand, for something of you is odd. Very, very odd,” he stated curiously. I did as I’d been told, offering out my right hand. He took my hand, flipping it over as I let the shortsword hang loose in my left. He began to girin, but then concealed it by offering a nervous cough, then returning to his original demeanor.

“You, good one, I believe to be of Tor’landa’s line. It is stated she had the Dragonmark upon her collar or breastbone and her hand’s palm as well. Only those of her blood share it. If any of the Flights dare return after what Deathwing did, I think you will be of importance. And, from what I hear, my good uncle, head of house Tir’nael, has struck a deal with the current descendant of one of the original Moonblades.

“This means we are, ah, almost kin, yes? The alliance I have heard only in whispers is supposed to benefit all of us, and--”

“I’m a Silverblade, though. A Dragonmark on me isn’t possible! I thought Tor’landa’s line is ended right now at her grandchild!” 

“Oh? Cousin, forgive me then. You seem to need some questions answered. But yes. The current heir to her bloodline is one Kyena. Storm-something I believe. But no matter. We’ve things to kill,” he expressed in an excited, almost childish, tone. 

I shook my head, having to walk off and think for a moment. However, that soon got interrupted in the first five seconds of thought. Dragons came. Lovely. The Kyena woman would be having the time of her life, most likely. Riding on the back of a dragon. Tor’landa’s heir to her great legend. I can stick with the ground. Wyhramis’ reasoning is simply a mistake.

I looked up, and down at my hand. This hadn’t been there before. A scaly patch of skin, reddish in color, right in the center of the palm of my hand. Whatever is playing tricks on me is a jackass, giving me delusions. Maybe Myn’s input would help. I ran back to the group, and surprises were about. 

No calling out for her. I picked her almost-black hair out of the crowd easily. And there she stood, next to…

Kyena. 

Oh boy. Now I have to mention this right next to the grandchild of the legendary figure. I checked to make sure the satchel still remained on me. Well, now is the perfect time to start practicing the “I swear I’m not in on this bullshit joke” excuse. I picked up the pace, making good time towards Myn and the legend-born woman. 

When I reached the duo, they stopped what they’d been saying and looked over at me. I swallowed nervously, forgetting what I had mentally rehearsed in my head. 

“U-uhm,” I began. Lovely. Begin with a stutter and nervous look on your face. Perfect for initiating conversation. “Are you the one who wielded the shining blade?” Kyena nodded. Myn stood there with what looked like a smirk of… something on her face. “I think I have something that’s supposed to be yours.”

“And what would that be, dorei?” she asked, lifting a brow in a slightly snarkish fashion. “I don’t think you would have anything of interest for me, especially right now.”

I held up a hand, my signal to wait a moment. Flipping open the satchel lid, I began digging around to feel for the familiar worn cover and spine of _Rauv’dris Tvaelin_. Easily, without any effort, I found it. Grasping it in a tight clawlike grip, I removed it from the snug location it made its way to at the beginning of this entire mess.

“It’s a book. The one about the Twins, to be exact. With notes from someone named Taryanda. I had a feeling you might know her. She signed a note into it with the surname ‘Moonblade’. My lady,” I quickly added with a hasty bow. “I also, um, need to speak with my friend here.” 

Kyena took the book hesitantly, examining it for some sort of authenticity I might imagine. Maybe, perhaps, the two were related. Tary certainly looked enough like the woman standing in front of me. While she did this, I made a quick motion to Myn to follow me over somewhere private, but for a moment. I am glad we got away from her, because I admit wholeheartedly to being very intimidated.

Soon as we reached a location far enough from Kyena but still being visible, I pulled down my shirt to show her what I would be ranting about. Myn gave me an odd look. I returned it with a glare of ‘shut up and wait,’ which she had come to understand perfectly from our time together. But this time, however, felt a bit more… awkward than the last times, and my stomach felt like had knotted up into large strings and sailor’s knots. 

“Do you see the scale-skin on me! What is with this and why is it showing up! I am _not_ of Tor’landa’s line! I’m a filthy Silverblade with a complex and lots and lots of bad memories!” I hissed. I had too many things to rant about, but for now this marked the top of the list.

“Well, you’re most likely related to Lady Stormbow, who you just talked to. Terribly, might I add,” she stated. I aggressively shook my head, trying to shake it out of her now that I am not related to this woman in any way, shape, or form. And now need to ask Tary even more questions about this mess. 

“What should I do about this though!”

“Show Kyena. Here, let me get her for you!” Myn started off towards the scarily tall woman, which would prove to be the end of me. I wouldn’t doubt her of accusing me of falseness and attempting to obtain my head. I grabbed Myn’s shoulder and tried to stop her. Though, she stopped herself, not me. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no!” I hissed at her, rapidly shaking my head. “This has to be _our_ little secret! I don’t want her knowing because she is a giant and I think she will try to end my life!” I clenched my right hand tightly closed. Despite that mark there, it felt like it always did--skin, but with a new pattern to it. Or, perhaps, it always felt like something else and I never noted it. 

“She wouldn’t do that, Nar. Kyena’s a protector, not-not like those things that we’re fighting, the demons! Or are you afraid of her?” she accused. 

“Yes I am very very afraid. She is tall and has a sword that is a LITERAL LEGEND. That’s Jai’alator, the sister blade to Ellemayne! I think I’ll just stay intimidated by her until I am ready to come to terms with what this bull on my body is, and then talk about it! For now, I think I’ll just stick to being weird with you,” I rebutted. 

Myn gave me a strange look, cocking her head to the side and staring at me. She mouthed the last three words that tumbled out of my mouth and looked to be trying to figure out what it meant. Had I phrased it differently, she’d have understood what I had been trying to say when I had ranted to her about this whole mess. 

“I… alright, Nar. I’ll keep it quiet ‘til you say.” She offered up a halfhearted smile, and I knew in that moment this would probably be the last time we’d see each other.

“Myn’ra! Come on!” 

We both turned around, seeing Kyena motioning for her to follow. A jerk of my head told her she should meet back up with the woman she’d taken so closely to. I felt that knot rise up in my chest as she ran off. Pushing that down, I turned to try and find where it is that Wyhramis had run off to. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As I ran through the crowds of people readying for the final push on Zin’Azshari, I still searched about for my cousin. He seemed to have disappeared. It would be near impossible to spot him out, now that so many forces from all walks and races known to be peaceful with us went about. Dwarves, Tauren, Furbolgs. All of them moved around, some performing a last minute blessing while everything got the finishing touches. 

Soon, sabercats broke out from a nearby small wood. Riding upon them the Sisterhood, glorious and clad in the white plates of armor that they kept in case a time of war broke out. Only some of them used that armor in the past skirmishes, but now most wore the ceremonial-looking white armors. Of course, they’d be involved in making history now. 

But among them rode only a small amount of men. Most likely those that had earned the great honor to battle with them. One man with a mane of white hair, pulled half into a ponytail, stood with them. A name came to mind. Whiyarmir. But even I knew it couldn’t be the founder of our house. It only is the young man named for him. 

“Nar, Nar! Turn around! Please! I need your help just this once and not once more!” a familiar voice screamed. I turned, as the voice pleaded for me to do so. I got met with a sight I had hoped to never see again, not after that fateful day in the woods.

Janedria. 

I glowered so hard she faltered in her step. I imagine it would have been a worse sight to her, though, as I still had the sword that slew Arathris strapped to my back. She looked utterly terrified, since I had glared at her and dragons had only just arrived. Her mouth opened to say something as she drew to a complete stop in front of me, but I only cut her off by drawing the blade and pointing it at her, backing her up some steps.

“Nar- I- Please-! I need a weapon. We’re hitting the capital and I want to be able to help this time! I want to make up for- for- him. Please…”

“Fine.”

I threw the sword into the ground at her feet, the weapon landing with a slight clatter on the hard-packed earth. Tonight, we rode to our doom. So let her at least die with a blade in her hand rather than the empty air. Glory for us all, yes? 

Stalking off, I followed after the Sisters, to where they camped out, in hopes of finding my cousin for another thing to use against the demons. And now it proved much too easy to find him. Dual blades on his back, a shield hung just over them to conceal and make them seem more decorative than anything.

I rushed up behind him as he talked of some unknown subject in a hushed whisper with another. The man opposite him must have noticed me, pointing me out. Wyhramis turned, bending down to eye level with me as to give some serious notice. 

“What are you up to, Nar?” he asked, smiling. “And where’s your blade? We’re going to ride soon, so I’m thinking we look at the dragons that have landed to help us. I hear that She of The Dream is here. I can’t pass that chance up, to see the one who is said to have nurtured and trained Cenarius!” 

He stood, pulling out one of the blades upon his back and handing it down to me. I took it gingerly from him, surveying it and sheathing it on my back. Wyhramis led me off to the sabercat he’d been riding on earlier, when more of the Sisters had come to aid us in this fight. Hopefully, it would be our last one in a long time. 

Wyhramis led me over and helped me mount myself on top of the cat. This only had to be my second time riding one of the majestic beasts. He climbed up top soon, making some sort of motion to the cat to set off towards where the dragons camped. And they stood not too far off, I soon learned. 

So many of the dragons stood here, out in the playing field with us. I kept studying each one, their colors and who they mingled with, curious about their nature. While doing so, my eyes ran over some elves interacting with them, one of those elves being Kyena. I immediately averted my gaze, faintly hearing some words exchanged. 

“Another with the Mark here…” one mumbled. “But no matter, for…. Named Fa’lore Dracon…!”

This is the only information I got. One of the great creatures spoke of the Mark we bore. The Mark that should not be upon my skin. 

A horn blew. 

We now rode to battle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“THE GATES HAVE BEEN BREACHED! GLORY AND VICTORY TO THE RESISTANCE!” 

A storm of demons came out. Riders of the beasts rode forth and met them head on in a bloody sea of screams. Next came the infantry. Archers remained behind shield walls and the magic users all flinging spells left and right. 

My sword had been pulled from its sheath. I charged in with the infantry. Surrounded by death immediately, the salty, tangy reek of blood already reaching my nostrils. Some nearby mumbled silent prayers to the Goddess, asking Her of a small boon to fight harder. Very rarely would they get that, most being gifted a bloody death by the hands of a demon. 

I ran on, losing myself in the cacophonous sea of death and fel. So many of their hounds came in and as I stood near those with shields, we hacked and slashed at whatever dared come near. The Tauren that held the great trunks of trees from their land would rush in, slamming the unfortunate demonic fool in the chest with their battering rams. 

Everything remained bloody and consistent with a real battle, the way they always were and always would be. I loved it. I watched one of the Dwarvenkind use his body and axes as one of the most destructive weapons. But, his life soon got ended almost instantaneously. Felguard snuck up on him, the moron. 

This only caused people to fight harder. We swamped the enemy and the enemy swamped us as we fought with all our might and they with theirs. But they would be our victims now. Not us. A small force managed to forge ahead to try clearing a path to the Well. People said Malfurion planned on its destruction to be our salvation. Not just kaldorei, but everything. 

Said a demon lord would make his way through and kill every bit of life on it. Too much jabber from the soldiers I’ve been hearing, Selindil would say to me as she called me the most damned foolish girl to ever walk about or even breathe. 

Wyhramis was part of that group, I recalled. 

“NO!” I screamed, running straight after that small advancement party. But the Resistance moved on too quickly. Everyone charged forward and I got lost in a confusing sea of wounded, strong, dead, living men. 

Before I could regain my sense I’d been grabbed up quickly onto a cat. 

“You need to watch what you do, Nymia!” he hissed into my ear. 

“Emval?” I asked. He answered in a booming, deep laugh as he rode forward and cut at whatever thing dared get near us. 

“You’re a scrawny, stubborn girl in the middle of a battlefield and think you can fight with us on your own, on the front lines, too!” he called to me through the mess of screeches and blade singing against blade. “And you’re right! You fight good for a young one with only seven hundred years of know-how behind you! Bladesong, they could title you! Earning shit for yourself now is a good start. But until you get old enough to be properly styled and titled--if we win--you’ll be my little bladesong now!”

I grinned up at him, righting myself in the saddle and holding up my blade. When I righted myself, I looked up. We arrived at the Well and bats and dragons flew around and ahead. Maybe I had returned to the story again, but with a better ending. Oh well. I could answer that later. I needed to get my blood boiling and the adrenaline pumping. 

Emval rode around, his expression now grim and dark as night. Wherever he went, his blade hung out on the left side of the cat to strike and help on the flanks. My blade stayed pointed out, moving left, right, wherever it was needed in the middle of this bullshitty condition of a fight. 

The stories detailed war to be right, though. The skirmishes quick and the battles quicker. Many felhounds kept at us, most likely because of a high magic radiating from my godfather. But then I made the mistake of looking up. A bat swooped down, aiming for him.

“Kelemval look out!” I screamed at him. He did so just as the bat grabbed him with such a force that it bowled over the sabercat on which we rode. I got thrown against the wall surrounding the inner yard of the Well’s chamber before it opened out into a vast expanse of what looked like an ocean, stretching so many miles. 

Moss grew over volcanic rock used to forge the great citadel where the Queen lived. My breathing grew short and choppy, as I’d been crushed under the weight of one of the beasts used to carry us into battle. Before I knew it, my vision went black.

I woke to the sight of Tary standing amidst the chaos, staring at me with fear in her eyes. I returned her a suspicious look, and saw we stood at the site of the battle, next the Well. The fighting raged on and I could see Emval falling from the bat, dropped down below. Kyena I saw on a dragon with Myn at her back as the duo fired at the bats and other things near and far. Fanar I saw nowhere. Nor did I see Lithmyr anywhere.

Wyhramis stood not too far off, near a collapsed sabercat as he tried to pull a fellow out from under it while still maintaining his guard. That man truly could fight. But he kept having too many difficulties. Demons kept on his tail and the battle looked disastrous for everyone and everything there. Janedria stood with some dwarves, terrified and swinging wildly at hounds that neared her. 

I only saw those I know, and I turned back to Tary. But I could feel my grip on this world loosening as I began to wake again. 

“You,” I stated, pointing at her, “owe me some answers later!” 

And I was once again trapped under the weight of the great cat. I screamed for help and one tauren came over, removing the corpse and laying it back down once I’d escaped from under it. I looked about for my blade now, spotting it a few feet away. I rushed towards it, snatching the blade before anyone else could reach it and claim it as their own.

Suddenly, as I engaged in a fight with a doomguard and three tauren as my allies, the Well began to act up. It spun rapidly and screams echoed from it. Demons began to get dragged towards the center of it, the nearest falling into the portal with cries of agony and defeat. Whatever started going on, I didn’t like it. Something good wouldn’t be following with this. 

A blurry figure dropped into the Well with the demons and they kept being pulled towards it with a rapid succession filled with fear and now cries on all sides. Faintly, one of our horns was blown though nobody farther away heard it. The doomguard we fought soon got pulled away from us, toward that sucking hole of oblivion.

Emval kept falling, saved only by a passing leviathan of shimmering sandy scales. The Bronze Flight. It spotted me, giving me a wink--or a blink--of knowingness and flew off with my godfather. 

Then we all ran as the ground gave way under our feet. The flooring kept being shaken loose and every single fighter ran for their lives with sabercats, furbolg, tauren, and dwarves all shoving past. This all proved to be even worse for them than ever. Waters of the well flooded the place, and it reached my feet. I splashed through it, wishing and wishing for safety now more than ever. 

At the speed everyone ran at, we exited the palace within a timespan that seemed shorter than when we laid siege to the once magnificent city that we called the Seat of The Empire. I looked back as I ran, hoping soon that I could quit the rushing to and fro. I screamed for my family and friends as I ran. My throat went raw within seconds and I kept screaming, all with that desperate hope that I could find them.

I turned back to a new stretch of water now rose, which kept advancing on us. They might have been in this. I ran towards it again.


	18. The After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Til the end of the line.

“NO, NO DON’T PULL ME AWAY! THEY’RE IN THERE! ALL OF THEM ARE IN THERE AND I NEED TO SAVE THEM! NOOOO!”

I am being dragged from the water’s edge by an unknown person who thought it best to save the poor kid who just lost everything. Don’t ever do this. To anyone. If they want to die or give themselves up to try and save everything they had, don’t try stopping them. Let them do what they want. Why is he dragging me off? 

“Come- on- kid-!” he growled, as he kept dragging me backwards from the water. This asshole had better let me go! There is a sword strapped to my back that I know how to use, and he thinks dragging me off is a smart thing to do. What a moron! He’s more of a moron than Lithmyr ever could be! 

I pulled away, finally, glaring at him with fists ready and a scowl spread across my face. The man looked very, very familiar to me. A scar across the bridge of his nose, with stubble where a beard clearly grew in after a week of not shaving. Hair the color of dusk falling down into bangs across his face, messy in a sort of… handsome way. And the eyes, when I looked at them--

Lithmyr. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME! GET AWAY!” I screamed, drawing the sword from my back and aiming it straight for him. I rushed at the uncle who took away my innocence, who caused my daymares to come constantly, unless Tary stopped them from reaching their destination. “IF YOU DON’T GET BACK I WILL KILL YOU LIKE I DID ARATHRIS AND EVERY DEMON THAT FUCKING ATTACKED US.” 

A pitiful look crossed his face. He reached out a single hand and I slashed at him, the monster. How dare he. How fucking dare he try and reach out now after what had gone on that fateful night. He caused this. He would not touch me. If I see him try this again I will kill him. I don’t care if Tary loved him. He will die like one of the demon. 

“Nymera- It wasn’t me, I swear! It was Nilan, it was Nilan. I had no control over it, please! I have no sense of who I am! Please… help me,” he begged. 

“FUCK YOU! GET BACK BEFORE I GUT YOUR PATHETIC ASS!” 

He stopped the begging, wiping his face furiously in a stupid attempt to not cry. Lithmyr Silverblade had no right to cry and ask for my forgiveness or help. Not even the Goddess would take pity and forgive his ass after all the shit he put me into. Lithmyr turned around, shooting me one last pleading glance, and mumbling, “I wish I knew you under different circumstances. If only I still had Tary…” 

And the man left me. He left me there, standing at the very edge of the new sea to stare out over it now, alone, just to think. I got to think of how I wanted him dead, how I’d plan out a way to defend myself if he ever dared to return. And if he ever, ever laid a single hand on Myn’ra I would dish out the fury of so many hells upon him. 

Speaking of Myn’ra, she came up and stood next to me for only a moment. I sheathed the blade and spun on my heel to meet her. Soon as she came within arm’s reach I darted up and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re alive, you’re alive. You’re alive, thank the Goddess you’re alive!” I gasped. 

Myn returned the hug, patting me a few times to motion for me to let her go. I quickly pulled away, grinning like a damned fool from how happy I’d been to see her alive and well and not dead like everyone else. I haven’t even found Emval, don’t know if he’s alive, nor do I know of Wyhramis. But who in the name of the Goddess _cared_? Myn is alive. 

“Why wouldn’t I be alive, Nar? I was riding on a dragon with Kyena! They called her Fa’lore Dracon!” Oh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about this just made me feel even better. She’s okay, she got to ride a dragon, why am I thinking these things, and she’s not hurt.  

 _Someone’s caught the feeeeelings!_ went that little voice in the back of my head. I don’t have any feelings. The only feelings I have right now are of relief and that knot in my stomach of Lithmyr showing up another fucking time. I’m not letting him ruin this part of me, not again.

“But… where’s everyone else? Are they okay? Wyhramis and Emval?” she asked. I nodded. A quick grin flashed across her face before she responded to the questions. 

“Camped out, gonna move up to Hyjal to repair the peoples I assume. But as for those two, unless they’re the ones screaming your name every four seconds, then they’re alright.” 

“Thank you so much, Myn. Here, uh, you should probably get back before Kyena calls for you again. I’ve got something to look for, something I lost a while back and I think it might be in the water.”

“Oh, like hell I’m leaving you on your own again! The last time I did that, you came back half-dead!” Right. Yeah. She saw my when I got that felhound attack in the woods. I should make sure she never finds me like that ever again. Too vulnerable to me. 

I turned back to the water, huffing and wondering just what she planned to do with me while I stood and splashed my hand in the newly-made ocean waiting for it. Stealing a glance at her, I took a few steps in. Surprisingly cold, but not that freezing cold that makes your bones jump out of your body. It felt almost calming. I stood this way for a little bit and admired the beauty of this new ocean, until something solid hit my shin.

It was Nochtuern’al.


End file.
